


Blood, Sweat, and Tears - Fantasy

by spinner33



Series: CM - AU [14]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: AU Fantasy, Abuse of Power, F/M, Homicide, M/M, Misogyny, Sexual Situations, Slavery, Suicide, Torture, non-con, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 51
Words: 182,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinner33/pseuds/spinner33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid gets very involved in a new set of books where a dystopian society is separated into people who have the plague, people who are immune, and people who are a living antidote.   Reid imagines Hotch and others in this world as various characters, while the rest of the team continues the search for Ed Trovinger. </p>
<p>This is the fantasy half of the story, and is meant to be read in conjunction with the reality half of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Hidden Treasures  &  Chapter 1 - Home

**Author's Note:**

> Notes and Warnings: Huge Thank You to Mary for being the world's best beta! Lo these many months, I have tormented her with various drafts of this tale, and she has been supremely patient, and very constructive! 
> 
> I hope it goes without saying that I don't condone slavery or human medical experiments. Nor do I approve of using psychological torture and emotional extortion to control the people around you. This story contains slavery, misogyny, physical violence, homicide, suicide, torture, sexual situations, and references to the inappropriate use of positions of authority . The medieval fantasy aspects of the story rely heavily on such tales as Charles Perrault's "Diamonds and Frogs" among others. The second half of the story will seem remarkably familiar to Star Trek fans, particularly the acerbic relationship between Captain Spaulding and her first mate. Extra special warning concerning BAU team members being shown in a negative light. Gideon and JJ are not nice people in this. If any of these mentioned triggers disturbs you, do not read any further.

Prologue -- Hidden Treasures

“Here you are. Oh. Look at you.” 

Reid blushed brightly and tucked his head to his chest as Bubbles dotted a kiss on the top of his head. She brushed his short curls with her hand, and removed the sawdust from his hair. He had squares of sandpaper and a small paintbrush tucked into his breast pocket, and woodstain drops all over his clothes.

“What a busy young man you have been!” Bubbles exclaimed. 

“It took a while to get to the case sanded and stained, but the results are quite nice,” Reid burbled. “We will of course have to let the shelves dry before we can set it into the door again. Another coat of varnish. Another touch of wood glue to conceal the nail holes. By tomorrow evening, we should be able to come back and put all your books in place again.” 

“I’ll keep the kitties off the shelves this time,” she promised. 

“Malcolm’s toes are not going to taste very good for a couple days,” Reid sighed.

“You did a fabulous job. Who knew you had a hidden talent for carpentry?”

“I Googled it,” Reid admitted.

“The bookcase is beautiful,” she answered, tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Bubbles, I’m so sorry for all the trouble I caused you,” Reid whispered, head bowed again.

“Nonsense. Stop beating yourself up,” Bubbles whispered back. She sat down in one of the winged chairs on the antique rug. “Spencer, how many times do I have to tell you? You did the right thing. I’m so very proud of you.”

“Thanks for removing the restraining order.” 

“You’re welcome. My daughter forgets sometimes who the adult is in our relationship.” 

“I’m so sorry about your bookstore and your home. I never meant for this to happen,” Reid shook his head, ashamed. 

“Spencer, between you and that busy little crew you brought with you, everything is back in shape. I’ll be able to reopen in another week. All the windows and doors have been repaired. All the bullet holes. That horrible smoky smell is gone. That clever boy of yours, Miles? He installed a new security system for me, showed me how easy it is to work. Your partner even managed to make himself useful too.” 

“Where did Aaron go?” Reid wondered, glancing towards the open door and the forms walking back and forth. The floor boards squeaked upstairs, and the gallop of a cat hurrying down the steps was heard. 

“He’s planting a tree in the courtyard for me. I’m not supposed to notice, I take it? A pink dogwood. It will fit in nicely. Spencer, I promise you, given the choice, I would do it all again. You saved Ed’s life. He would never have walked out the door free and breathing, not with that many feds waving that many guns, and certainly not with Mr. Wingtips out there running the takedown.”

“Mr. Wingtips,” Reid snickered softly. 

“You know how I feel about men who wear wingtips,” Bubbles sighed. “This, all this, it is a temporary bump in the road, like a flat tire you have to stop and fix. I’m going to be just fine. But Ed, he’s going to remember the kindness that you’ve shown him, and you mark my words, you are going to see a changed man.”

“I do hope so,” Reid murmured, rubbing his fingertips over his green and yellow bruises. 

“You want a break from the sanding and staining? I’d like to bring a few trade paperbacks into this room. They’re from an estate sale. A science-fiction and fantasy buff by the looks of it. Would you catalogue the boxes for me?” Bubbles asked hopefully. 

“I’d be happy to,” Reid beamed, holding out both arms for the box she ported over from the open door. Eight of the ten fingers he was holding up had a Band-Aid, a bump, a nick, a ding, or a cut on them. Bubbles handed Reid the box, and shook her head at him. “Alphabetically?” he asked. 

“That would be just fine, Dr. Precious,” Bubbles answered. She patted Reid on the shoulder, but he didn’t notice. He was already diving into the box of books, eyes alight with the flames of curiosity. 

*********************

Part 1 - The Virgin Land  
Chapter 1 - Home 

“Lord Aaron!” 

A swift form in blue raced down the castle steps, dodging past a scullery maid and a milkmaid who were headed for the kitchens. He received a whack on both ears for disrupting their conversation. A long train of mounted knights was making its way up the hill, under the raised portcullis, and up the cobblestone road to the castle itself. Groomsmen waited for their horses, to take them to the stables nearby the main guard tower. The squire had spotted his master among those returning, and he was eager to grab his lord’s attention before he could be otherwise distracted. His master was a very busy man, and much in demand. 

Lord Aaron dismounted his steed, planting his mud-caked boots on the firm, stone steps of home for the first time in weeks. A stable boy led his horse away. Aaron shouldered his bags and faced Castle Rossengild. Never had his eyes beheld such a gorgeous sight, no matter her grimy façade, and gray windows, and general dearth of color and light. Such was the tone of the world in winter. At least it wasn’t snowing today. 

Aaron was careful to couch his joy in the grimness which was his usual mood. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him looking too happy to have returned without his prize. He was simply relieved to be home again. He needed some rest. A form in blue hurried towards Aaron. It was his faithful squire. The youth went so far as to take Aaron’s arm in anxiousness. 

“Sir? So good to see you again!” Torgeson panted.

“Good to see you as well, Karl. What troubles you?” 

“Your replacement has arrived, my lord,” the young squire babbled, letting go of his master’s arm and taking an appropriate step back from him. 

“Where?” Aaron asked, careful to keep the anguish from his voice. It had been seven days already since his last dose, and he was beginning to feel the absence of antidote deep in his bones. 

“You look pale, sir,” Karl observed. “How long have you been without?” 

“Lord William was kind enough to share his rabbit with me while we were on the hunt, but it has been a week since my last dose.”

“That was most kind of Lord William.”

“I am in his debt all the more,” Aaron observed wryly. “Where is this replacement?” he asked. 

“I left him in your rooms for you. I pray you will not be disappointed, sir, as I had but a brief amount of time and even fewer resources with which to perform the duty you set before me.”

“Him?” Aaron questioned in surprise. Karl winced.

“Forgive me, my lord, but him, yes, my lord.” 

“Karl….” 

“I apologize, my lord,” Torgeson winced. “It was the best I could do on such short notice. I know it’s not the done thing for a man to take a male rabbit, but honestly, my lord, he has a very female look about him. I myself mistook him for a wench. Perhaps if you were to dress him as such, no one would be the wiser.” 

As his squire was saying the words, the lad was moving another step back, closing one eye in anticipation of a blow. The number of times that the lad cringed in Aaron’s presence made the knight quite concerned for him, truly. How often had the lad been whipped and beaten for displeasing his former mistress? Aaron waited calmly, gauntleted hands folded at his front. When no blow was forth-coming, Karl came back within arms’ reach. 

“He waits in my rooms?” Aaron asked. 

“In your rooms, my lord. I fetched water for a bath, a light meal as well. Baron Rossen will be expecting you later this evening, I dare say.” 

“I will be expected to make my report, yes.”

“Did the gods above smile on you, my lord?” 

“No, but the gods below made fair play of me. Fielding escaped across the border into Mary’s Land. We did not pursue him for fear of starting another Border War.”

“I am sorry, my lord.”

“So am I.” 

“I’m off to the village apothecary for your medicines. Master Bottler was not in his shop when I checked. I will see you tomorrow?” 

“Thank you, Karl,” Aaron smiled finally, clapping a hand on the lad’s shoulder.

“You are too kind to me, my lord,” Karl smiled back before rushing away. 

Lord Aaron counted himself lucky in that he had survived the Border Wars, as the local army his master had managed to raise had been used as little more than fodder during those violent campaigns. Aaron had survived by his wits and his brawn while many others had perished, including the previous baron. When he had returned home in one piece (for the most part) he had been granted a court position in gratitude for faithful service to his kindly master, who became the serving baron. True, since his master’s star had risen in the time since those wars. Lord David Rossen had become one of the most powerful barons in all of the Virgin Land, and Aaron found that he too enjoyed the benefits of his master’s increase in power. 

Lord Aaron served as the shire reeve for Baron Rossen’s barony of Quantico. He was responsible for maintaining law and order with his knights and under-shire reeves, keeping the peace, protecting trade, and controlling the populace when needed. It was a task that suited Lord Aaron very well. He like law and order. He liked routine. He liked stability. He liked knowing the rules, and knowing his place and his responsibilities, what society expected of him. If only everyone would have been so fond of the rules and of order, then he might have found himself bereft of a job. So while he enjoyed the order and stability, there was also a part of him which was grateful at his age to be able to enjoy the excitement of the hunt and the thrill of the chase, all things considered. Very little pleased him more than dragging home a dangerous criminal and handing the villain over to Baron Rossen. Unfortunately he would not be able to do so this time. 

Aaron pondered these things as he slowly climbed the tower steps towards his private apartments. When he passed the intermittent windows, he would peer outside. The Virgin Land was not much to behold in winter. The trees were barren of both leaves and fruit, and were nothing more than stark black and brown sticks ranging out of the earth, over the hills and mountains. Pale sheaves and stubble covered the fertile fields. When it snowed, there was a brief passage of time during which all the world was white and pure again, but alas, not for very long. The dirt and mud always found their way through the clean snow. 

The society that Lord Aaron lived in was divided as it had been divided since before memory, since the time of the Great Plague which had swept across the land, tearing the joined states apart into fractious fiefdoms who were concerned more about their own interests than the interests of the whole as one. People themselves were divided into three categories: those who were infected, those who were immune, and those who served as living antidote to the Great Plague. 

Those who were infected with the Great Plague usually lived in the Virgin Land, where their fore-bearers had abandoned technology and embraced an agrarian society, a feudal system of sorts. The toil was hard and life was often short, but it was not without its rewards for those willing to work. 

Those who were immune to the Great Plague usually lived in Mary’s Land across the border. Tales filtered through of flying machines and horseless-carriages, of great cities built of steel and glass which glistened in the sunlight. It was reportedly a place where magnificent, gleaming castles could maintain summer warmth or winter cool no matter the time of year. Aaron had never been to Mary’s Land. He had always been told that these tales were the ravings of lunatics driven mad in the final stages of the plague. Everyone in the Virgin Land believed that all Mary’s Land contained were crumbling structures, polluted rivers, barren fields, and fruitless trees – a land ravaged by war, chemicals, and pestilence. 

However, Aaron knew that from the top of his tower, when he gazed across the borders on a very clear night, he could see shining domes of light far in the distance. It was not all chaos and anarchy over there. 

The conflicts going on between the Virgin Land and Mary’s Land stemmed from many reasons – mistrust, hatred, and fear foremost. Those in Mary’s Land coveted the wide, green spaces of The Virgin Land, and those in the Virgin Land coveted the technology to be able to one day find a cure for the Great Plague. The scientists of Mary’s Land were constantly promising a cure was in sight, but none had yet been discovered. Further, raiders from Mary’s Land crossed into the Virgin Land to obtain infected specimens on which to conduct their inhumane experiments in search of this elusive cure. It was an intolerable and unspeakable practice which had been going on almost as long as they had been divided into two worlds. 

The Great Border Wars had been fought to a standstill with tremendous losses on both sides. Smaller wars flared up now and then, though they were little more than skirmishes, not great battles. A raiding party here, a fly-by-night grab there. It was nothing the Virgin Land could not defend against though, Lord Aaron was confident. There were sentinel posts in all the baronies, and the barons were in constant contact concerning the threat of danger from the outside. 

While those with the plague and those that were immune continued to squabble, the remaining people also played their own role in the conflicts – usually much against their will. These people served as a living antidote for those infected with the Great Plague. In the Virgin Land, these people were referred to as ‘rabbits’. They were kept as possessions. Mary’s Land decried this practice as worse than slavery. But for those in the Virgin Land who were infected with the Great Plague, the keeping of rabbits was a necessary evil. There was no cure, none whatsoever, in spite of what the people of Mary’s Land continued to promise. There was only brief respite from the disease to be found in the form of the blood, sweat, or tears of the captive rabbits. 

The antidote was simple enough to obtain — one had to drink the body fluids of their rabbit in order to maintain good health. It wasn’t a cure. But it could prolong one’s life by years, decades even. It wasn’t uncommon in the Virgin Land for an infected man or woman to reach as many as five or six decades, even seven! If you had enough money to procure rabbits of the highest quality, you could stave away the aches which would rake your bones, or the dizziness and nausea which would fill your body, and the eventual madness which would end in death. Those who were lucky enough to have a good supply of rabbits could abate their symptoms, and go on to lead nearly-normal lives. 

Rabbits were therefore very highly-prized commodities. They were bought and sold, traded and bartered, kept and bred. A lord or lady’s rabbit might be dearer to them than their own flesh and blood family. That all depended on the lord or lady. The quality of one’s rabbit depended on the money they had at their disposal. Rabbits lasted longer when treated well, more briefly if mistreated. 

The longest one of Aaron’s rabbits had survived was six years. Aaron did not mistreat his rabbits. He was greatly torn on the morality of keeping someone as property and using them in such a fashion. His rabbits never lasted long because being in the company of a shire reeve was fraught with danger. If they were of weak constitution and not much for heavy travel and rough conditions, life with Aaron was very hard on them. Also, it was not uncommon for a fugitive to attack Aaron’s rabbit instead of attacking Aaron. Therefore Aaron did his best not to get too attached to his rabbits, though that was often a losing battle from the outset. 

To the casual observer, it might have made more sense for Lord Aaron to leave his rabbits at home when he travelled for work. But his work often required that he be gone from home for more than a week at a time, and bringing his own rabbit was an absolutely must. He needed a steady supply of fresh antidote. 

At times it was no less dangerous being a member of the court at Rossengild Castle. There were numerous intrigues running rampant at any one time, lords and ladies plotting against one another. These intrigues invariably involved their rabbits, who were authorized to act as seconds in duels, and to act as liaisons between warring factions. Rabbits might also be offered as gifts between rivals, or they might be given as part of a dowry as well. Because of this involvement in politics, rabbits were often the objects of fatal wrath. When you can’t attack your enemy outright, it was seen as almost acceptable to attack their rabbit instead. Lord Aaron had lost a rabbit in a duel when he was a teenager, and he had been much aggrieved to have lost his friend Anselm in such a fashion. 

Thus it was a dangerous assignment, being Lord Aaron’s personal rabbit.

Lord Aaron was grateful to have a job, a home, and a little money. He knew that compared to most of the population, he was a very lucky man indeed. He was also well aware that his squire had not had much hard currency on hand, and that he would not have been able to purchase a replacement rabbit of very fine quality. Aaron steeled himself not to expect a great deal once he reached his apartments. 

It had been six months since Lord Aaron’s previous rabbit had been killed. He had mourned Haley because he was fond of her, but necessity demanded that he must now move on to a new rabbit. That didn’t mean he was without feeling over her loss – not at all. He missed Haley terribly. They had shared a child, though that child had been stillborn. Years ago, Haley had given birth while Aaron was travelling for work. Haley had given their stillborn son to the reeds, the custom of placing the deceased in a basket in the river, and letting the current carry the dead away.

When her time had come and Haley had died, Aaron had given her up to the reeds as well. He had wrapped her corpse in her finest dress and cloak, and kissed her on the forehead, and pushed her basket into the current. He had watched from the riverbank as she drifted on to the next world, taking the better part of himself with her. He had wondered if the fairy tales were true, that somewhere on the other side, Haley had been reunited with their son, and that now they waited for Aaron to join them there. 

Life being what it was, Aaron didn’t have the time to stand about wringing his hands in despair. Haley was dead, but it was time to move on. Six months was a long time to wait between rabbits. His life depended on acquiring a new one. Aaron had tried to abstain, but Lord William had insisted that he would share his rabbit with him. As the pursuit of Fielding had dragged on, Aaron had sought the services of professional rabbits because he did not want to put a strain on his friendship with Lord William or on the life of Lord William’s rabbit. 

Depending on hired rabbits could be dangerous. They were not always as pure as they might have claimed. His visits to rabbits for hire had left Aaron feeling queasy and ashamed, and he had tried to abstain from antidote again. His physical condition had gradually worsened. His joints and bones ached deep inside. His every movement was clouded with nausea, to the point where he could hardly keep food down. As he deteriorated physically, his mental capabilities suffered as well. 

A week ago, Lord Aaron had had no choice but to accept Lord William’s kind offer to share his rabbit again. This practice was also wrought with hazards, as sharing a rabbit could lead to enmity and jealousy between masters, and all manner of confused loyalties on the part of the rabbits as well. Master and rabbit tended to be closely bonded. The longer they had been together, the deeper the bond was, although there were situations where the bonding could be instant and irrevocable. It wasn’t uncommon for a master and a rabbit to share a close friendship, even an addiction to one another’s company. It was also not uncommon for a rabbit to share a master or mistress’s bed, for them to be involved sexually. In recent years, there had even been a growing number of masters had taken rabbits as marriage partners, rather than making them merely mistresses. Sharing a rabbit with another man or woman stirred up too many conflicting emotions, and therefore it wasn’t a recommended practice. 

In short, while Lord Aaron was grateful to Lord William for his kindness, he was unspeakably happy to be home, where the promise of a new rabbit of his own waited him. The shire reeve didn’t have very high hopes, as he knew how empty his purse was, and how little money his squire had had at his disposal. But Lord Aaron was not the picky sort. His life depended on having a rabbit, and his squire had procured a new rabbit. There would be no quibbling on Aaron’s part about the fact his replacement was not Haley, and not even a female.


	2. Rabbit

2 -- Rabbit

 

Lord Aaron turned the key and opened the door to his austere apartments. He was surprised by the silence he heard and felt. The hearth was empty. No candles were burning in the outer area. There might have been one or two lit in the loo, back and to the left. Mid-afternoon winter shadows left long fingers of gray and black throughout the living space. The furniture was sparse and frugal, but the rooms were comfortable enough. The space suited him, and he suited the space. From his windows, he could see the courtyard, the portcullis, the village, and beyond, so he liked these rooms very much. 

Where had Karl left his rabbit?

There was no one to be found in the rooms as far as Aaron could tell. He walked around to be sure. As his squire had promised, a large wooden tub waited in the loo, brimming with steaming hot water. There were towels laid to one side, balls of soaps at hand, phials of sweet-smelling oils as well. Though Aaron was anxious to wash away the clinging muck of his travels, he was more anxious to have a look at the new rabbit. Aaron walked around the living quarters one last time, hands on his hips, studying every last nook and cranny into which his eyes could delve.

There! Under the heavy table pushed against the far wall. He could see a scrap of frayed fabric. The scrap of filthy cloth was wrapped around a thin leg. Extending from the thin leg was a scrawny ankle. Descending from the ankle was a long, thin foot. A right foot. There were dotted scars on the ankle, as if from a snake bite or two. Had his rabbit stepped on a nest of snakes at some point in his life? Aaron smiled and cleared his throat, approaching the big, heavy table. 

“Come out, rabbit,” Aaron called, crouching down on his haunches, peering into the shadows. 

The shadows peered back. Light brown eyes like amber jewels gazed at Aaron before dropping away. 

“Let me have a look at you,” the shire reeve continued in a stern voice which commanded respect, but promised fairness and kindness as well. He could have reached under the table and tugged to get him out of there, but that might result in a fight, a nasty bite, and a serious infection. Aaron knew better. He waited, getting closer to the ground. The table jumped up as the rabbit pushed himself further back out of reach, tucking himself up tight. One had to be careful with new rabbits. A master had to be firm, surely, but above all else, he had to be gentle. 

“Don’t be shy. Let me have a look at you,” Aaron repeated, tentatively putting a hand under the table. 

A flurry of frantic movement caught Aaron by surprise. A fleeting shape scrambled past him, bowling him over, knocking him to the ground—nearly knocking him unconscious in fact. Aaron’s melon hit the heavy stones. His rabbit scurried feverishly for perceived safety in the bank of shadows at the end of the bed on the far side of the quarters. 

Lord Aaron lay on the floor, and stared up at the ceiling as stars circled in his vision. A thin, ironic smile crossed his face. He pulled himself upright and stared down at his clothes. Along with the grime and muck of his long journey, he now bore the distinct impression of a single foot, right in the middle of his chest. Gods, but it was a long foot too. Nearly the length of his own great feet!

It occurred to Aaron that he hadn’t locked the door, and that he needed to do so at once. He didn’t want to be chasing this skittish rabbit all over Castle Rossengild. He’d be a laughing stock before nightfall. As Aaron pushed the bolt home, he glanced up into the mirror hanging by the door. Faint light spilling from the loo lit the rabbit’s features where he was hiding.

Lank, dirty hair and beard stubble covered the rabbit’s young face. He was tall and very lean. Probably hadn’t seen a decent meal in weeks. As Aaron’s rabbit panted with fear, eyes closed tight, face clenched in distress, Aaron’s eyes traced over the white scar across the base of his throat, three inches long and slender as a grave. Had someone tried to kill this young man? The scar wasn’t fresh – it had had time to heal. How long ago had it happened then? That must been a terrifying experience. No wonder his rabbit was so fearful. 

Aaron decided on a different approach. He began to peel off his cloak as he made his way to the loo. Hadn’t he seen a loaf of bread in there by the food tray? The shire reeve dropped his muddy cloak on the loo threshold, took off his sodden boots, and dipped his hands into the steaming water to clean them. Then he reached for the warm loaf of bread, and tore it in two. He walked cautiously towards the rabbit, who was cowering in the shadows at the foot of the bed. 

Aaron knelt down about three feet from where the young man was shivering. His approach was frightening the rabbit even more. The rabbit was gearing to flee again, long haunches pushing him up on his back feet, his body in a crouched position. Aaron offered half the loaf of bread to him. The rabbit pulled back in distrust. Aaron inched closer. The rabbit considered crawling under or perhaps over the bed to get away from the shire reeve. Aaron really hoped he chose under, not over, or they were going to have to change the bed linens. 

“You must be hungry,” Aaron offered. He left the bread sitting on the stones, and returned to the loo. He shed the rest of his clothes and climbed into the tub of water, making sure to face the bed so he could watch the rabbit. While his back had been turned, the half loaf had vanished into the shadows, snatched away by a grimy talon. Aaron could hear chewing and gulping noises, soft breathing, exclamations of delight, he thought, but no actual noises. It was hard to explain. There were gasps, croaks, choking noises even, but no actual voice sounds. Perhaps his new rabbit couldn’t talk, owing to the gash across the base of his throat? Pity and bile rose in Aaron’s throat. He could not abide people who mistreated rabbits. It was inhumane enough to have to keep a living soul as property, but to mistreat them too? That was insult to injury.

Aaron washed himself slowly and carefully, looking up from time to time to track his rabbit. Amber eyes studied the shire reeve. They were frightened eyes, surely, but Aaron sensed intelligence and calculation as well. Aaron looked down to search for the ball of soap he had dropped in the water. When he raised his eyes, he found that his new rabbit had crept to the doorway, and was hiding just beyond. That was promising. The rabbit was curious about him too then. 

The candlelight fell full on the new rabbit. He was beastly to behold! Lank, dirty hair clung to his face, neck, and shoulders. His features were smeared with mud, blood, snot, and muck. He wore several days, if not weeks, of dark stubble. There wasn’t a clean inch of skin on his entire body, and there wasn’t much of his body that Aaron could not see through the rags of cloth that served to cover him. 

Lord Aaron felt slightly nauseated. His lack of regular doses of antidote was beginning to take its toll. But he was also disturbed by the thought that at some point this evening, he was going to have to partake of this creature in the form of one bodily essence or another. Blood, sweat, and tears. Other substances would also suffice, but Aaron couldn’t even let himself imagine that. Because of his degraded physical condition, this rabbit’s antidote might be very weak indeed. Weak, or even poisonous. Aaron might have to drink very long and deep of him to feel any succor whatsoever. 

Any other man might have begun to panic at his dwindling prospects, but as far as Aaron was concerned, it was not yet time to panic. Besides, Aaron wasn’t the sort of man who shrieked in terror in the face of Adversity. Those who knew him best might have commented that in a staring contest between Lord Aaron and Adversity, Adversity would surely blink first. Aaron would survey the situation with a clear eye, without letting emotion get in the way. Once you have a better understanding of your circumstances, if panic was warranted, then by all means, have yourself a moment or two of panic. But then get right back to work solving the problem. Because panic in and of itself was not going to solve anything. 

Aaron decided his best course of action was to indulge his rabbit in a nice long bath. Once he was clean and dressed, Aaron could better judge him. Then of course the question arose of how to tempt the young man to climb in the tub of water. Perhaps his odious state of person was due to a terrible fear of water? 

Amber eyes were following Aaron’s every move with wary suspicion. 

“Would you like some soup? Or some chicken?” Aaron asked, pointing to the tray of food. 

The eyes dropped away shyly. There was a hint of a nod. 

“My squire brought more than enough for two people. You’re welcome to whatever you can stomach. But you have to take a bath.”

The rabbit pulled his frayed and dirty clothes closer, balling his limbs up tight. He rocked in his own embrace. What had frightened him? The prospect of a bath, or the idea of having to disrobe? That didn’t bode well, Aaron worried grimly. Maybe the young man thought Aaron was inviting him to share the tub, as a prelude to sexual misconduct? That wasn’t what Aaron had intended at all. Clearly the best way to alleviate that fear was for Aaron to get out of the tub, and so he did. Panic began to flood the rabbit’s face again as Aaron stepped out. 

“Don’t be frightened. No one here is going to hurt you. Not me, and not my squire Karl either,” Aaron promised as he wrapped up in the robe hanging on a nearby hook. 

Aaron picked up the bowl of soup off the tray. He held his robe closed, and walked tentatively towards his rabbit, leaving wet foot prints on the stones. Water rushed down his back from his thick, short, black hair. The rabbit kept staring up at Aaron, almost as if hypnotized by him. The rabbit gulped loudly. A thin hand pushed through his lank hair, scratching vigorously. Aaron shivered, nearly recoiling. He wouldn’t be surprised if his rabbit was simply covered in lice. Perhaps Aaron should keep his distance for tonight, until he could have the young man shorn and deloused. But Aaron was in desperate need of antidote, and at the moment, this rabbit was his best option, lice or no lice. He needed to make friends, and sooner rather than later. Aaron set the soup bowl down, and pulled back. 

“Go ahead. You must be hungry.” 

The thin hand slid down to the ground, but did not pick up the bowl. Amber eyes watched Aaron unsurely. He understood there would be a price involved for such a kindness as food, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to accept. 

Aaron’s heart was doing strange things in his chest, things he could not begin to explain. It pained him that someone had mistreated this young man to the point that even an offer of food must be weighed as a potential trap. Protectiveness welled in Aaron. 

“You drink some soup, then climb in the tub. I’m going to go find both of us some clean clothes.” 

Without another word, Lord Aaron walked around the bowl, past the rabbit, and through the living quarters. He rifled through a trunk and the wardrobe, pulling on undergarments, a plain pair of trousers, and a rough-hewn shirt with long sleeves. As he hunted up a pair of woolen socks, then sat on the bed to pull them on, he tried to decide what to dress his rabbit in. 

Obviously the young man needed something else to wear. He could not put those rags back on. Although there were people who paraded their rabbits around in little more than a loin cloth, or a metal breast plate and panties, Aaron preferred to keep his rabbits modestly covered. He had even gone so far as to provide Haley with a stipend for whatever fancy things she might desire, because it had pleased her, and pleasing her had made him very happy. When she had been with child, she had asked for knitting needles and yarn, and she had whiled away many evening, seated before the fire, making small socks. Aaron had sold Haley’s clothes when she had died. Most of her clothes. Rightfully so, he thought it better that someone should find use in them. But he had kept every small pair of socks that she had knitted. Aaron thought about Karl’s remark that he could dress his rabbit as a woman, and the lord shook his head in distaste. 

Aaron heard a few hungry gulps behind him, but steeled himself not to turn around and watch. There were wet snuffles, and hurried swallows, and relieved exhalations. Again, no words, no voice emerged. Moments later, the empty bowl thumped quietly on the stone floor. A tiny hiccup or two brought a small smile to Aaron’s face. He had known that kind of hunger as well in his time, and he was glad to have been able to help fill his rabbit’s empty belly. 

Aaron had his head buried in the wardrobe, but he was sure that a faint, tentative splash followed the little hiccups. Then, there was a delighted sigh. In the wardrobe, Aaron’s fingers crossed a silken robe, a linen dress, a fur-trimmed cloak. They were the few articles of Haley’s clothes that he couldn’t bear to part with yet. In time, he would give them away too. But for now, it gave him comfort to find them there. He pushed them into the back of the wardrobe with a tender caress, willing himself not to smell her perfume on her garments, willing himself not to imagine her fair hair and kind smile. He hurriedly selected a long-sleeved shirt and an old pair of trousers, bringing them back to the loo. He reminded himself on the threshold that he needed underwear and socks for his rabbit too though. 

His rabbit was in the tub, scrubbing himself briskly. The young man was clearly thrilled to have been given permission to bathe. He smelled the soap very deeply, as though the small ball of red resin was a heavenly flower, and then he brushed tears of joy off his face. Dirty suds trailed everywhere. Aaron smiled his approval, watching the young man’s back. Pale, white skin with freckles and moles peeked through once the first layer of dirt was removed. Aaron hung the spare clothes up on the hook where his robe had been, and glanced casually down at the young man in the tub. His rabbit was all bony knees. A narrow spine. Tiny hips. A tinier waist. There were bruises in varying shades of healing – purple, greenish-yellow, dark blue. Lord Aaron was interested in seeing his shoulders though, in particular, his right shoulder. 

Every babe born in a barony in the Virgin Land was presented to the ruling lord, and then to a mage or court apothecary. First each child was tested determine their station in society – plague victim, rabbit, or the fortunate immune. Those infants who were immune and those who would be victims, they were returned quickly to their parents. Those infants who were determined to be rabbits were subjected to another test. The potency of their antidote had to be gauged before they could be returned to their parents. The mage or apothecary used a simple test to determine the number of hares to be tattooed upon the rabbit’s right shoulder. 

One blue hare meant the child’s antidote was not potent at all. It was not uncommon for these infants to be exposed, given up to the reeds, or to be sold to work houses or brothels. Many wound up in orphanages. Not always though – there were parents who loved their children no matter their deficiencies, and Aaron could do nothing but applaud their fortitude in the face of adversity. 

Two hares meant the rabbit’s antidote was suitable. Three hares meant they were average. Like most other infected citizens, Aaron had had two or three hare rabbits most of his life. He didn’t enjoy the fact that his own life depended on keeping another living soul in chains, either literally or metaphorically, but the will to survive would drive people to do things, things they might not otherwise be able to stomach. Hadn’t Lord Aaron seen that demonstrated time and again during his time as shire reeve, and during the Great Border Wars? 

Four blue hares tattooed on the right shoulder meant the rabbit was above average. Five hares indicated their antidote was of the highest potency. These were rare, very rare, and treated as worth their weight in gold. Both four-hare and five-hare rabbits were usually reserved for breeding purposes, in hopes that pairing off two compatible individuals would bring forth more five-hare rabbits. This venture nearly always failed, but that didn’t stop people from trying. There was no guarantee that a rabbit parent would produce a rabbit child, let alone duplicate five-hare potency. Mother Nature was fickle in this sense – any type of parent could have any type of child. There seemed no rhyme or reason to it. A man might strive to make his fortune breeding high quality rabbits together, and he might succeed, but he might also fail miserably. 

Curious to learn how his rabbit was classified, Aaron crept closer. It was hard to tell because there was a dangling mass of clinging hair in his way, but he was pretty sure he was seeing three hares on his rabbit’s right shoulder. That was comforting, at least. Aaron could easily sustain himself with a three-hare rabbit. 

Far less comforting were the varied bruises, bite marks, and scars which covered the young man’s shoulders and the nape of his neck. As the layers of dirt and muck came away, more scars appeared. There was even a lash mark or two. This young man had been very roughly-handled in the past, no doubt about that. Some of those bruises were very fresh though. Had he been abused or assaulted recently? Aaron’s sympathy welled again, and he found himself even more determined to treat this new rabbit very tenderly indeed. 

The rabbit jolted in surprise at Aaron’s closeness. He spun around in the tub, and moved out of arms’ reach. He covered his body with his arms. His eyes were glued to the rocking water which had been disturbed by his sudden movement. Lord Aaron realized he was looming over him, and backed up a couple steps.

“Do you need help with your hair? I can wash it for you? Maybe trim it too? It would be easier to keep clean if it was shorter,” Aaron offered. He realized how foolish that sounded – for a man of his station to offer his services as a hand-maiden. He felt himself turning red. 

The shire reeve picked up a phial, opened it, and sniffed at it. He offered the phial to the rabbit, who drew back even further, pulling his knees up under his chin. Gods above, the young man was thin. Aaron set the phial down by the soap balls, and motioned into his own hair with both hands. 

“Wash your hair. Soak in the tub for a few minutes if you like. Then join me. Do you understand?”

The rabbit gave a slow nod. Resignation dominated his features. 

“I promise you have nothing to fear from me,” Aaron added, softening his voice. It was important to him to put this young man at ease. The shire reeve wasn’t sure if his tender words had worked though. The rabbit’s bottom lip disappeared under his top lip, and the hint of two front teeth appeared. His lip and chin quivered for a moment, but then every trace of emotion was secreted away somewhere inside. His stare hardened to complete neutrality. He refused to show more emotion, and he refused to move even an inch until Aaron left the loo. And so Aaron did leave. 

The shire reeve sat on the bed and waited, fighting back the dread in the pit of his stomach. The longer he sat on the bed, the harder it was to fight sleep too. Aaron was nodding off against the pillows in no time. His own snoring woke him up. He jerked upright, planted his feet on the floor. How long had he slept? A few minutes? No, much longer. Late afternoon was upon him already. Evening would fall soon. 

Much to his surprise, his rabbit was sitting on the floor beside the bed. The young man was naked as sin, and shivering in the cold. Aaron rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and went to the loo, where he grabbed the spare shirt and trousers. He came back to the bed, dropped the shirt around the young man’s shoulders, and pushed the trousers into his hands. Aaron paused momentarily, watching the rabbit slide his long arms into the shirt. 

Four blue hares were now present on the rabbit’s right shoulder. Aaron gulped, eyes widening slightly. He took another look. Four hares? He had only spotted three before. Aaron brought underwear and socks, dropping them gently on the floor and backing quickly away. His rabbit’s face showed confusion, even in the dim light. 

“I know they’re going to be too big for you, but they’ll do until tomorrow. I’ll see to it that you’re properly kitted with clothes of your own,” Aaron promised. 

The shire reeve went to the hearth, where he took his time to light a fire, running over the surprise of his good fortune in his mind. Four hares? One of the spots must have been shielded before by the young man’s dirty locks. Four hares? He gulped nervously. Aaron had never had a four-hare rabbit before. Would he be able to handle the potency of such a strong antidote? 

When Aaron turned around once more, his rabbit was fully dressed, seated on the floor by the bed. Aaron dusted off his hands and climbed to his feet, watching the warm glow work its way out of the hearth and through the living quarters. 

“Your hair,” Aaron murmured, giving a faint laugh. He retrieved a hairbrush from the tall chest, coming back to the bed. Gingerly, he reached down and stroked the young man’s damp locks. “Aren’t you a sight? Come sit by the fire. You’ll dry off and warm up soon enough.” 

Aaron stationed himself in one of the large chairs. His rabbit came only as far as the woven rug. The lord had to stretch forward in his chair to reach the top of the young man’s head. Sighing impatiently, Aaron scooted his chair next to the rug, and sat down again. Now he could reach without straining any muscles. 

Aaron parted the rabbit’s silky locks, taking them in segments, gently brushing until the hair almost glowed in the firelight. While combing the young man’s hair, Aaron searched his scalp for nits, and was glad to find none. Perhaps he had merely been itching because he had not been allowed to bathe. Why would a slaver keep a four-hare rabbit in such deplorable conditions? The rabbit smelled heavily of strawberries and honey. Aaron realized Karl was right – this rabbit did have feminine features – long lashes, big eyes, and a tiny button nose. His jaw was square though, and very masculine, especially when covered with dark beard stubble. The young man’s hair was a strange color – something almost auburn, almost sandy – with ends that dangled in errant curls. His mouth was full and plush. Tempting, Aaron thought before he shook himself in surprise. 

Aaron shifted in the chair, and parted his knees around the young man’s sides, stroking his hair more gently now. The rabbit was drooping where he sat, eyes sliding closed in spite of his best efforts to stay alert for danger. Whether it was the warmth from the fire, or the comfort of having his hair brushed, his shoulders were relaxing. He was actually leaning against one of Aaron’s knees. One hand slid down onto the hearth rug and went lax. The other hand was circled around Aaron’s ankle. Glowing, flickering light played over his slender fingers. 

Even though he was finished brushing, and was pleased with the results thereof, Aaron was reluctant to stop stroking his rabbit, because he had soothed the young man into such a state of bliss. It warmed Aaron’s heart to have been able to give him comfort. A knock on the door made his rabbit sit upright, shoulders tense with fear again. Aaron put down the brush and stood up, patting the chair.

“It is likely a summons from my master. I will return as soon as I can. In the meantime, sit by the fire and finish whatever you like from the tray. You’re welcome to climb in the bed, and have a nap too.” 

The rabbit sleepily watched Aaron cross the room. The shire reeve paused to pull on a clean pair of boots. Was that disappointment he saw in his rabbit’s mournful features? Aaron pulled a cloak out of the wardrobe. It would be cold in the castle at night. But he paused a moment, eyes on the rabbit by the fire. Aaron carried the cloak over, and wrapped it gently around the young man. The rabbit studied him in disbelief, shrinking down under the warmth. 

Aaron vanished in the company of the page who waited by the open door. Amber eyes returned to the fire. The rabbit remained seated on the woven rug, hiding under the cloak. He folded his arms into the chair, and rested his head upon them as a pillow.


	3. The Baron

3 -- The Baron

 

The summons had been from Baron Rossen. Aaron was led to a private study by the bored little page who barely bothered to look at him twice during the ten-minute walk. The child of a knight or a lord of the court, no doubt, someone who thought himself above the task he had been granted. The shire reeve took a seat before the large desk, waiting patiently for his master to arrive. He watched the flames licking around on the hearth, and smiled quietly to himself as he pictured his rabbit waiting back in his rooms for him. Hair like silk. Eyes like amber. A four-hare rabbit? He couldn’t believe his good fortune. The door to the private study jolted open not five minutes later. Baron Rossen stood on the threshold, and bodily shoved retainers, and courtiers, and attendants by the score back out of the room, including his own rabbit Ashleigh. 

“Dear friends, Lord Aaron and I have private business to discuss. Please be kind enough to amuse yourselves in my absence. Or if you must, amuse each other. Either way, stay off the good furniture,” Baron Rossen commanded in a jovial tone. 

He slammed the door, catching the ornate, lace hem of someone’s sleeve in the portal. He opened the door again, shoved the lace cuff back out, and then forced the door closed once more. Baron Rossen leaned on the portal and panted for breath. 

The baron was a portly man in his mid-sixties, with salt and pepper dark hair, a pointed beard, and a kind but serious demeanor. Aaron wondered if it had greatly displeased his master that his shire reeve had not been able to apprehend Fielding. Aaron shifted nervously in his chair. It wasn’t an easy life, serving in your job at the pleasure of another man. Baron Rossen was not one given to caprice or cruelty, quite the opposite in fact. However one could never be sure which courtier or attendant or retainer might drop an envenomed whisper in the baron’s ear, plotting against Lord Aaron for some unintended or imagined offense. Aaron never took his position or the baron’s affections for granted. 

“Gods, son, you’re pale. I thought your squire procured another rabbit for you.”

“He did, sir,” Aaron answered, rising quickly to his feet and bowing out of respect. 

“I saw a couple brutes from the common markets dragging a burlap bag up into your apartments earlier in the day. Haven’t you had a dose of your new rabbit yet?” 

“Not yet, my lord. But soon,” Aaron responded. The baron clapped a hand on Aaron’s shoulder on his way around his big desk. He planted his round bottom in his cushioned chair. He piled his elbows on the desk, his dark eyes glittering with concern. Aaron took his own seat once more. 

“Aaron, you need to take better care of yourself,” the baron scolded in a fatherly tone.

“Yes, my lord Baron,” Aaron replied. 

“Listen to me. I know you’re disappointed that Fielding escaped, but you can’t let that bring you down. Don’t spend weeks and weeks repenting your inadequacies with self-flagellation, thinking yourself a worthless failure. You are one of the best shire reeves Quantico has ever had! I wouldn’t be where I am without your help. You’re not going to catch every villain. I don’t expect perfection from you, and you shouldn’t expect perfection from yourself.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Aaron sighed deeply, head sinking nonetheless.

“You will get another chance at him, I can feel it in my bones.”

“I do hope so, my lord.”

“Put Fielding out of your mind for the moment. I’ve got another job for you.”

“Already?” Aaron brightened. This was a very good sign! The baron wasn’t at all displeased with the shire reeve, not if he already had another task for him. 

“Well, to be honest, Lady Prentiss has made a right mess of this one, and she could certainly use your help. I can’t help but think Lord Strauss made her under-shire reeve and gave her such a difficult task in order to see her fail so he could be rid of her.” 

“Lady Prentiss?” Aaron questioned. “She’s been made under-shire reeve for the Occoquan? Congratulations to her!”

“You don’t disapprove of a female under-shire reeve? Many of the others have complained to me about Lord Strauss raising her above her station.” 

“No, sir. I do not disapprove at all. The Lady Prentiss is very capable and competent. I do not even notice her femaleness when we hunt together. Her gender has never been an issue between us.” 

Baron Rossen laughed in reply, and Aaron’s words trailed off. 

“More’s the pity. So you like her?” 

“She is very amiable, and easy to journey with. Good in a fight too. Very handy with a blade.”

“I confess, I have often thought an arranged marriage between you and Lady Prentiss would suit you both very well, Aaron. It would also go a long way in patching wounds between myself and Lord Strauss.”

“If it would please you for me to bond in union with her, I would willingly obey, my lord Baron.” 

“This isn’t about pleasing me, son. You miss the point entirely,” Rossen mused, patting the top of the desk. He gathered up an empty satchel, stuffing it with parchments and tomes and scrolls. “All work and no play, Aaron, it’s going to make you a dull old man someday.” 

“Is it not too late to worry on that charge?” Aaron joked softly. 

“I hold out hope that Adventure and Excitement may come along someday, snatch you by the throat, and shake you from your gloom.”

“Am I gloomy, my lord?” 

“I know you miss Haley.” 

“I do, my lord,” Aaron admitted readily. 

“Missing her isn’t going to bring her back. I know something of mourning a lost wife.”

“I know, my lord.” 

“You have a new rabbit to make nice with. You mustn’t be so grim all the time.”

“I will try to be more cheerful, if it pleases you.” 

“Aaron, this isn’t about pleasing me,” the baron sighed. 

“Yes, my lord,” Aaron intoned. Baron Rossen grimaced, narrowing his eyes at his shire reeve before shoving the satchel across the desk at him. 

“This is what I have on your quarry. It’s not much. John Grosbeak. He’s a rabbit runner out of the Occoquan.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“He’s been arrested before for illegal breeding. Managed to wiggle out of the charges by what means I do not know. He disappeared for a couple years, but now he’s back, and up to his old tricks. He’s buying one-hares and two-hares, marking them up above their actual potency, and selling them on the sly. Three people have already died, both in Quantico and in the Occoquan, because of lack of proper antidote. They drowned in the well. No matter how much they drank, they could not be sated. Masters and rabbits both have perished. I won’t stand for this abuse, Aaron.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“I want you to find Grosbeak, root out his sources, and shut him down. The Lady Prentiss. It’s her business. Let her decide how best to handle things. She’s asked for our help, but in the end, it is her responsibility to handle things.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“I have put out informants in search of more information. More may filter in by morning, so don’t leave tonight. You have a good read tonight, get yourself some antidote, and get a good night’s rest. Take a day to relax and do nothing. Make nice with your new rabbit. Here. Travelling funds.”

“You think I’ll need actual money?” Aaron blanched. 

“You might. You are to rendezvous with Lady Prentiss three days hence in the Occoquan. She’ll brief you on the rest of the mission. Any questions?” 

“No, my lord,” Aaron said. He stood to accept the satchel, slinging it over his shoulder. 

“You need to wrap this one up soon.”

“Why, my lord?” 

“Because this quarter’s presentation ceremony is less than twenty-one days away.”

“Presentation ceremony,” Aaron winced. 

“I require your presence, as usual.” 

“Yes, my lord.”

“I know how you loathe ceremonial functions. You handle the babes like sacks of flour. But be back in Quantico by the day of the ceremony, whether or not you take down John Grosbeak. In the meantime, make nice with your rabbit. Show him around Castle Rossengild. Help him acclimate. This is his home now too. Why don’t I send Ashleigh up to your apartments? She would be more than happy to make nice with your rabbit, help him to feel at home?” 

Aaron’s face fell grim. 

“How did you know my new rabbit is a male?” 

“I know everything that goes on in my castle,” the baron beamed. 

“Karl told you?” Aaron beamed back. 

“No. That one is loyal to you, very loyal. He reminds me a squire I once had.”

Aaron’s smile widened. It had been many years since Aaron had served as Baron Rossen’s squire, not since he was a lad even younger than Karl was now. Too many decades ago to count. 

“Karl is good lad,” Aaron commented. 

“He is at that. No, I saw him dragged in in a bag, as I said. It was the Lady Guinevere who told me he is male.” 

Aaron felt a cold chill at her name. 

“Not much goes on in Rossengild Castle that she doesn’t find out about eventually,” the shire reeve commented bitterly. Baron Rosen bit back a smile. 

“I realize you are none too fond of Guinevere, though she does strive very hard to make herself pleasing to you.” 

“I find the Lady Guinevere juvenile and vindictive. She is given to petty acts of retaliation against those who displease or disobey her. She is given to thinking that she is mistress of this castle, and you, my dear baron, indulge her in this fantasy far too much.” 

Baron Rossen cackled quietly. 

“She is my niece by marriage. My first wife’s sister’s second daughter? By default, she may in fact actually be Mistress of Rossengild, at least until I take another wife, or choose an heir besides her.”

“Forgive me for speaking so plainly of her. I do not mean to offend you.” 

“That’s what I appreciate about you, Aaron. Your honesty. I can trust you to tell me the unvarnished truth. I value your opinion, and you should never, ever withhold it from me. Promise me you will not.” 

“I promise, my lord Baron. You were never fond of your first wife. Neither was I.”

“Lady Isabella was not my favorite wife, and the Lady Guinevere reminds me so of her, in face and in manner,” the baron confided. “I do strive to love Guinevere, but I will never trust her. I’m afraid she is too much like her aunt.” 

“Then, my lord, you do understand my feelings,” Aaron nodded.

“Shame on both of us though. We should make the effort to be kind to the young lady. We should have more sympathy for her plight. She was orphaned at a very young age, having lost both her parents and her sister. She has had to claw her way to where she is.”

“My lord, you give her whatever she desires on a silver platter,” Aaron chided.

“I feel sorry for her. She was unfortunate to be widowed so young with her first husband’s death. Doubly-unfortunate to lose her second husband so soon after their happy union. We should take pity on the Lady Guinevere’s predicament, and do our best to build up her confidence.”

“Forgive me again, my lord, but the last thing Lady Guinevere needs is someone building her confidence.” 

“It is true that she can be a trifle too fond of herself at times, but I prefer to believe that’s a façade to cover her fear of being found inadequate, particularly by you. Show her kindness and pity, Aaron. She does not posses the same talents that Lady Prentiss was blessed with, those talents that you seem to admire. The Lady Guinevere is terrified of knives. She can barely ride a horse. She is frail and ill of health. She has survived by her guile alone, but guile is not going to catch the Lady Guinevere a third husband.”

“Frail? I think not. The Lady Guinevere is fair of face, and has a pleasing figure. There are many men at court for whom she is the pinnacle of perfection. Why should my opinion of her matter so much?” 

“If I have to explain it to you, Aaron, there’s really no hope on that front,” the baron mused. “I have considered it might be time to lend her a hand in the pursuit of a long-lasting companion, a third husband who might survive a few years.” 

Aaron raised his eyes and gave the baron a dubious stare.

“Not you, I promise,” the baron smiled in return. 

“Why must her highest aspiration be marriage? Is she not sufficiently occupied with teaching charm classes to young ladies? Could you not find her a more pleasant task to occupy her time, and let another husband come to her in due course? She’ll likely trap another one by and by, if you leave her to her own devices.” 

“I fear she grows bored, keeping company with the young ladies.”

“She delights in having a young, impressionable audience to manipulate for attention and adoration.” 

“Aaron…..”

“You did ask me to be honest with you.” 

“Indeed I did. She is bored with teaching the young ladies. Boredom breeds discontent. Discontent breeds anarchy. What pleasant task would you suggest for occupying the Lady Guinevere?” 

“One that plays to her strengths.” 

“What are her strengths?”

“An endless repertoire of biting remarks?” Aaron shrugged helplessly. “There are those who find her very charming.” 

“Except you,” the baron noted wryly.

“Perhaps she should train for the stage. She is charming when she so wishes to be. Kind when necessary. Generous when it suits her. It is her vindictiveness that keeps me at bay. I would sooner breast-fed a poisonous adder than draw such a venomous woman close to my heart.” 

“We must find a post to keep her occupied. I do have an open liaison position. But I confess I’m quite afraid to turn the Lady Guinevere loose as a go-between with Baron Munro.”

“Why, my lord?”

“The Lady Isabella was a liaison before we were married. Her aunt was such a skilled liaison that she had Baron Fallmouth obeying her every whim. She was gearing up to lead him in a war against me. That’s why I agreed to marry the Lady Isabella in the first place. It was politically-necessary to keep the conniving wench close to my side, so I knew everything she was up to, and could prevent any future plots against my life!”

“Why not give the Lady Guinevere both a job and a husband? Nothing says you can’t do both. Keep her so busy that she cannot connive against you or anyone else,” Aaron suggested. 

“I was considering negotiating with Lord William to be her husband. What are your thoughts on such a union?” 

“Is that what you do in your spare time? Plot politically-advantageous marriages?” Aaron questioned with a hint of a smile.

“Only when I’m truly bored,” Baron Rossen laughed. “I cannot in good conscience plot any more unions for myself. Who would want a relic like me?”

“My lord Baron, there are many ladies who would be quite flattered by your attentions.” 

“No, no, no, it is far past time for those sorts of pursuits.”

“Nonsense. You disparage yourself terribly.”

“I am content to channel my hopes and efforts towards my friends who need a guiding hand in such pursuits. Like you! What think you of the suggestion that Lord William should take the Lady Guinevere as his wife?” 

“My feelings on the matter are immaterial. It would be more prudent to consult Lord William for his thoughts on the matter. Do you not agree, my lord Baron?” 

“Which you would not say if they were positive feelings, would you?” 

“Lord William is a kind and soft-spoken man, a thorough and just shire reeve, a man given to tender feelings and sentiments.”

“What’s your point?” 

“The Lady Guinevere will bend him to her every whim. He doesn’t stand a chance against a shrew like her. She would walk all over him.”

“Perhaps William is the sort who quite likes being tread upon?” Baron Rossen suggested wickedly, stroking his pointy beard. “I find I like the idea more and more.”

“Being tread upon?”

“Uniting Lord William and Lady Guinevere in marriage.” 

“Were you ever tread upon in marriage?” Aaron asked. 

“Son, the secret to a good marriage is to accept being tread upon and not mind the footprints. That goes for husband and for wife.” 

“How many times have you crossed the threshold, my lord?” 

“Three times. The Lady Isabella, Ivy, and the Lady Patricia. Crossing the threshold is nothing to be afraid of, though you seem to have rather a great dread of it. How old are you now?”

“I have been blessed with more than forty years.”

“Three and forty? Four and forty?” 

“Two and forty, my lord.” 

“By your age, I had been married twice already.” 

“Your second wife was your rabbit, wasn’t she?” 

“Yes, Ivy was my rabbit, and a good woman at that.” 

“Quite a shocking thing in your time, wasn’t it, to take your rabbit as your wife?” 

“Not nearly as shocking as a shire reeve who dares to take a boy rabbit.” 

“He is not a boy, and I had very little choice,” Aaron pouted. 

“If you find it doesn’t work out between you and him, we will get you a docile and sweet female rabbit, just like Haley was.”

“Docile and sweet? Not always,” Aaron chuckled gently. “Haley could be very fearsome when she was angry. She could tread upon me when she so wished.” 

“Did you feel the footsteps?” 

“No. But I do feel their absence,” Aaron admitted sadly. 

Baron Rossen nodded solemnly in reply. “My third wife,” he murmured, and that was all he had to say. Aaron agreed with a sigh. He remembered the Lady Patricia as being a kindly woman fond of books and live theatre. “Enough of this reminiscing. You should know better than to lead an old man into the past. You hurry on now. I suspect you’re eager to study your new quarry. I envy you, Aaron.” 

“Why so, my lord?” Aaron asked, standing up a little straighter. 

“If I could trade places with you, a new quarry to chase, an adventure to look forward to, I’d do it in a minute.”

“And what stops you, my lord?” 

“My age, my health, good form, societal expectations. I’m too old to be chasing off after rabbit runners and goods smugglers and thieves and beggars, am I not?” 

“As baron and master, I should think if you feel like saddling a horse and chasing after law-breakers who disturb the good of the order, then you should do so, my lord. The thrill of the chase might quicken your blood and improve your health. Damn societal expectations and good form,” Aaron replied. The baron cocked a smile at these words. 

“Let me know how your new rabbit works out. I’ll keep an eye out for you in the meantime,” Baron Rossen promised. 

“For a new rabbit or for a wife?” Aaron smiled. 

“Both. Aaron, I have only your best interests in mind.” 

“I am sure of that, my lord, if I am sure of nothing else in this world,” Aaron said, bowing to his master before exiting the study with excitement in his steps. He clutched the satchel close to his side, sprinted the gauntlet of hangers-on, and made a hasty retreat back to his living quarters.


	4. The Bond

4 -- The Bond

 

The crackle of the fire in the hearth did a great deal to mask the sound of rustling parchments, but it didn’t cover the noise entirely. The crinkling seemed inordinately loud in the quietness of the space. While sitting at his desk, Aaron tried to read through his source materials as quietly as possible, as not to disturb his sleeping rabbit. Every few minutes the shire reeve would cast his eyes towards his new companion. The young man was lax against the chair on the woven rug, his entire upper body prostrate in the piece of furniture. As Aaron sorted through the pages of reports, flipped through books, and shuffled maps around on his desk, he hunched down closer to the surface, regretting every squeak of the chair, every crinkle of paper. 

The bells in the clock tower of the castle chapel interrupted Lord Aaron’s train of thought. He stopped, putting down his writing stylus next to the ink well. Two bells? Was it that late already? He looked towards the window for confirmation. The sky was an eerie color. Falling stars danced on the other side of the frost-etched panes. Stars? Aaron corrected himself with annoyance. No. It was snowing again. Damnation. 

Aaron stood up from his chair and stretched, treading lightly across the hearth rug. His caution was for naught. The rabbit was waking slowly. The young man had his backside positioned closest to the fire. When Aaron had passed between him and the fire, the difference in temperature and the shadow cast over him woke the rabbit. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the slender curve of the young man’s posterior. The cloak had slid away from his form, draping to one side. He was so thin, but very pleasing to behold, made all the more fair of face by the sleepiness in his eyes. Aaron was tempted to cover him again with the cloak, but did not dare for fear of disturbing him. 

Once at the window, Aaron pushed open the thick glass, and stared out into the night. He took a deep breath of the icy cold that rushed in at him. The frosty air cleared his lungs, made his chest ache, and reminded him he was alive. The deep breath also made his head spin. He needed to bargain for a dose of antidote, soon. The clouds were low and visible, spewing flakes everywhere across the landscape. The castle towers, the courtyard below, the village rooftops, and the fields beyond the castle walls were fairly covered in the horrid stuff again. 

It had snowed at least once a week since the turn of the New Year, usually on Tuesdays, and while Aaron could appreciate the beauty of a newly-covered field, or the dazzle and glow of powdered whiteness on the rooftops, enough was enough. Snowfall was going to make travel hellish. It might take all of his three days to get from Quantico to the Occoquan for his rendezvous with Lady Prentiss. He might have to leave in the morning after all, but he would ask permission of Baron Rossen first. Snow on the fields meant snow on the roads, and snow on the roads meant mired-down carts, tossed carriages, and lamed horses. Aaron faced the prospect with dread and annoyance. They were going to have a hard road to travel, no matter when they left. 

They. The word tickled his brain and made his heart beat fast with anticipation. He and his new rabbit would have to get to know each other on the road, it seemed. Karl had other responsibilities here at Castle Rossengild, and would not be travelling with Lord Aaron for this case. Karl’s wife had given birth but a few weeks ago. His squire was a devoted husband, and very keen to be with his wife. Her labor had been long and difficult. Aaron had been the one to suggest that Karl should stick close to home for a while. The shire reeve hoped that his new rabbit would be up for hard travel by snow three days to the Occoquan.

A long shadow crossed Aaron’s shoulder. He turned to find his rabbit was standing, stretching, and holding up the waist of the trousers he was wearing, ambling around sleepily in a circle as he laid the cloak in the chair by the fire. First thing tomorrow, they would have to see the court tailor. His rabbit’s eyes went not to Lord Aaron, but to the desk awash with scrolls, parchments, tomes, and maps. Those eyes glittered keenly with curiosity and excitement. 

“Baron Rossen has given me a new case,” Aaron explained, closing the window and returning to the desk. 

The rabbit shied away, and lowered his eyes. He dodged back from the table, concerned that Aaron was angry. The shire reeve pulled the large map front and forward, motioning to it as he spoke. 

“This is where we are. Quantico. A small barony, but close to the water, so we’re blessed with trade by land and by sea. Sea. Boat. Why didn’t I think of that before? Our destination is here—the Occoquan, up the mouth of this small inlet. If we travel by boat, we can avoid all the cart and horse traffic on the roads. Glad I thought of it. We’ll make arrangements tomorrow morning, after we see the tailor.” 

The rabbit’s eyes travelled the map hungrily. He was drinking in the information. Aaron hoped he was not imagining the intelligence he thought he perceived in that gaze. The shire reeve leafed through his reports again, and the rabbit’s eyes crossed those too, but puzzlement clouded his features. He was curious to see more. It was almost as if his hand wanted to draw the reports close and study them in detail. 

“We are to meet up with an under-shire reeve named Lady Prentiss. She will brief us on our quarry, John Grosbeak, a rabbit runner. Prentiss hasn’t had any luck apprehending him, so she’s asked for our help. We are working with her on the case as it crosses the borders between us, and thus falls into both jurisdictions. I’m the shire reeve of Quantico. My name is Aaron. Did I tell you that already? I’m not from here, originally. I come from a small place that used to be on the border with Mary’s Land. It’s not there anymore—not marked on any map. Castle Hotchner was razed to the ground many years ago. I was set adrift by the death of my former master, and I took his name to honor him. I have served Baron Rossen since I was a lad of twelve, through feast and famine, war and peace, thick and thin. He’s a good man. But there, that’s where I’m from, and me, this is who I am. Lord Aaron of Hotchner, now of Quantico.”

Aaron traced a fingertip over the map, years falling away in his mind. The sight of his home castle and village burning to the ground had been forever etched in his mind, like a bright, orange and red illumination. He remembered the smell of burning pitch, the screams of the dead and dying. He and his mother had fled the carnage that followed as raiders swept through the crumbling castle walls to lay claim to the prisoners, taking those they needed and killing the rest. Closer to the truth was that his mother had fled for her life, and Aaron had scrambled desperately after her. 

His mother had carried the lifeless body of his brother Sean for miles and miles before reluctantly giving the toddler up at the riverbank, letting the water carry his small corpse away to the next world. Aaron had hidden in the reeds by the water, watching Sean’s small body bob along, until his clothes became sodden, and the current pulled him under forever. His blond hair was the last part of him to disappear. 

Aaron followed his mother at a distance for many days before she begrudgingly accepted him at her side. She was hungry, and he had brought her food. He had trapped and cooked a hare, and thus she decided he was not worthless after all. They had wandered penniless and friendless into the village of Quantico. Aaron had begged on the streets, and his mother had made a few coins as a hired rabbit or a whore, until the fortunate day when she caught Baron Rossen’s eye. His mother had been a dark-haired beauty, and a three-hare rabbit to boot. Every time Aaron walked past the Three Red Roses Tavern, he thanked his lucky stars that Lord David Rossen had chosen this place and that day to buy a tankard to quench his thirst. 

Lord David had been a knight and a recruiter during the Great Border Wars. He had mistakenly thought that being kind to Aaron would put him in Aaron’s mother’s good favor. She was always much more concerned about herself than her son. When they had first met, his mother had been strapping Aaron’s hide for bringing back so few coins to her. She had agreed to be Lord David’s rabbit, but not before letting him shower her with money and gifts as further enticement. Aaron and his mother moved into the Castle Rossengild with Lord David, she to be his rabbit, and Aaron to be his squire. When Lord David inherited the previous baron’s seat of power, he had even made her the Lady AlyceAnn, raising her far above her societal station, much to the discontent of his peers. 

The arrangement between Baron Rossen and the Lady AlyceAnn did not last long. Lord David had been completely besotted with the Lady AlyceAnn. The Lady Isabella had not taken kindly to the competition. One day, Aaron’s mother simply wasn’t there any more. It was more than a year before they did find her, or at least what was left of her, crammed down an abandoned stone shaft in a disused corner of the castle, her skull crushed, her clothes rent with at least a hundred stab wounds. She had died a horrible, painful death. 

Lady AlyceAnn’s disappearance had prompted Aaron’s first delving into castle intrigues. He didn’t have to look far to find the person most happy with his mother’s absence. Lady Isabella had fairly glowed with delight that her rival was gone. It didn’t take a gigantic leap of faith to know that Baron Rossen’s wife had seen to Aaron’s mother’s demise. Either she had done the job by her own hand, or she had hired a villain to do the deed for her. 

As she had seen fit to eliminate his mother, Aaron in turn arranged for the Lady Isabella’s downfall. Working as Lord David’s squire, it was almost too easy to allow his master to catch the Lady Isabella in a compromising position with not one but two of her current lovers at the time. All it had taken was leaving the baron’s dagger and his favorite boots in the Lady Isabella’s chambers. Certainly the lowly squire would not be allowed to retrieve these items from the lady’s rooms. Baron Rossen was required to get them himself, and thus stumble onto the surprise that awaited him. 

Baron Rossen had been dutifully furious in public, and genuinely relieved in private. The Lady Isabella was promptly issued a divorce, and sent packing, landing in the barony of Fallmouth. While it was one thing for the Baron Rossen to take a dark-haired beauty as his rabbit, it was quite another thing for the Lady Isabella to be cavorting around with two of Baron Rossen’s own knights, and a master-at-arms to boot! (The third man confessed to the affair after the lady was well away though, so there was some discussion in court about whether he had ever in fact been privy to the lady, or if he had made up the story to bolster his own reputation. Or perhaps Baron Rossen had paid him off to add icing on the cake?)

Aaron shook the memories away. His rabbit was studying him quietly. But then, he did most things quietly, didn’t he? The young man was almost afraid to cast a shadow. 

“What about you? Where are you from? What’s your name?” Aaron asked. 

The rabbit’s slender hand caressed the map, his nails rasping over the parchment. A forlorn look crossed his face. Aaron surmised he wasn’t the only one with a sad tale to relay. 

“Show me where you’re from. I would very much love to know. You cannot tell me. I understand,” Aaron soothed, eyes on the scar across his rabbit’s throat. The young man traced the scar with one hand. He had delicate, beautiful hands with horribly, unkempt nails. Aaron decided he would trim those nails tomorrow morning. 

“Can you read a map? Here, let me show you. This is north, south, east, and west. Quantico, Occoquan, Aquia. That’s Fallmouth over here. Shenandoah over there. I’ll have to take you to see Shenandoah. Lord William of the Mountains – a friend of mine – he’s the shire reeve for Shenandoah. I’m shire reeve here in Quantico. I told you that already.” 

Aaron pulled a blank scrap of parchment under his hand, and dipped the stylus. 

“A-a-r-o-n. That’s me. Can you read? Can you write? I’d be happy to teach you.”

Instead of answering, the rabbit ducked shyly, turning his blushing face away. Aaron realized he had moved right up against the young man’s side. Aaron dipped the stylus, and handed it to the rabbit. 

“Can you write your name for me?” 

The shire reeve pushed the scrap of parchment to his rabbit, and the young man stared at Aaron with much trepidation. A drop of ink fell as he hesitated. The rabbit touched the tip of the stylus to the parchment, and traced an M with rounded tops, and underneath of that, he made a U. 

Mu. His name was Mu? That didn’t make any sense. The young man touched the stylus to the ink well once more, and then filled in the space between the letters with a small ‘i’ with leading and trailing serifs. Then he drew two dots for eyes, and smiled faintly. He had drawn a hare’s head, and was very pleased with himself. He touched the parchment piece, and patted his own chest with his fingertips. Aaron finally understood. 

“Your name is Rabbit?”

The young man nodded slowly. Aaron sighed as if in pain.

“I have a rabbit named Rabbit?” the shire reeve questioned.

The young man nodded again. Aaron scowled, and the rabbit’s smile fell. The young man lowered his head and put the stylus down. He folded his hands in front of himself and took a tentative step away. Aaron was flooded with guilt. 

“It’s all right. I’m not angry with you. Gods, it’s not your fault,” Aaron mourned, lifting the young man’s hand and squeezing it gently. 

Rabbit’s eyes widened. His hand went tense in Aaron’s grip. There was something about his touch that resonated with Aaron, sparked an eerie and delightful feeling in his skin. The shire reeve slowly released the young man’s hand, and avoided his eyes as he turned away. Aaron gave a self-deprecating chuckle. 

“Have you seen your name before? I will write it for you.” 

Aaron picked up the scrap of parchment. He carefully printed R-a-b-b-i-t in simple letters, and gave the scrap back to his companion. Being this close to him was doing strange things to Aaron. The shire reeve was already feeling shaky and knock-kneed. He might have otherwise attributed this to the lack of food and his abstinence from proper doses of blood antidote, but that wasn’t necessarily the only reason he was feeling this way. He could hardly deny that he felt an attraction for this young man. He was inexplicably drawn to him, almost hypnotized by him. 

It was always awkward, the first time feeding from a new rabbit, not unlike exploring a new lover and finding what they like by trial and error. Aaron couldn’t stop himself from thinking the analogy all the way through. Where could you put your hands? Could you wrap him up in your arms? Where were you allowed to touch? What were you permitted to do while feeding? Stroking or petting? Haley had liked being held. What did Rabbit like? Aaron’s disorientation was amplified by the fact he hadn’t had a male rabbit, not since he had been a teen. That man had been a mentor, a tutor, and a friend. Anselm had died defending Aaron in a duel. Aaron wasn’t sure where or if he should carefully put an arm around his new companion. He only knew that with each passing second, he could feel each individual heartbeat, and smell the delicious salt on his skin. A keen hunger was building in the shire reeve. 

Aaron tried to distract his hunger by concentrating on sympathy. How horrible was it to be named Rabbit? To have no identity of his own his entire life? This young man had merely served a purpose—that was it. Aaron tenderly, carefully patted Rabbit on the hand again before turning back to the table and grasping the side to steady himself. 

Rabbit cradled the scrap of parchment in his fingers, smiling to himself again. His fingertips were turning inky. Aaron fussed with his reports, stacking everything together.

“So?” Aaron began, sighing, inhaling, and stumbling over a word or two before starting again. “I would like… if you permit me…. shall we make our bond official? How do you prefer…. What I mean is…. Do you have a preferred stance for feeding? I must feed, and soon, you see? With your permission, of course. I don’t mean to rush you, but it’s been more than a week now for me. Besides that, it’s time we were in bed for the night. I prefer to feed at bedtime. I prefer to stand behind my rabbit to feed, but if that puts you ill at ease, I promise I will be comfortable with whatever makes you happy. Do you prefer to lie down? I know some rabbits experience nausea and dizziness.”

Aaron motioned back to the bed. He hadn’t sounded this awkward since he was a fumbling teen. Feeding could affect both master and rabbit differently. It was not uncommon to become sexually aroused, which made the fact that this was a male rabbit all that much more awkward for Aaron. 

Rabbit walked past Aaron, headed towards the bed. He was shedding his clothing as he went. Shedding his clothes? Aaron blinked in surprise, mouth falling open. Rabbit arrived at the bed naked, pulled back the covers, and slid in between the sheets. He sat up against the headboard, covered his nakedness with the heavy blankets, and stared back at Aaron expectantly. 

Aaron gasped, raised his hands to waist level, and wiggled them. 

“No, no, no. Forgive me, sir. I believe you have misunderstood my intentions,” the shire reeve babbled. Rabbit stared at him, waiting. “I did not mean for you to disrobe. I didn’t mean….” 

Aaron picked up the clothes from the floor while walking towards the bed. Rabbit waited, staring. Was it Aaron’s imagination, or were those hypnotic eyes getting larger? Rounder? More innocent with each passing second? Aaron placed the clothes neatly on the bed, and shook himself to clear his head. 

“Rabbit,” the shire reeve intoned sternly. “I do not know what rules you’ve been subjected to in the past, but this is not the kind of submissiveness I expect from you. You’re not meant to be my….I don’t…. I’m…. My babbling is only making this worse, isn’t it?”

Rabbit folded the covers back a little, and patted the mattress, inviting Aaron to join him. He had a disquieting subservience about him which only amplified Aaron’s nervousness. Had his other masters or mistresses expected sexual favors during feeding? After feeding? Whenever and wherever they had demanded? Did Rabbit think Aaron was strange because the prospect of someone offering obedient sexual coitus made the shire reeve all fluttery and shy? The idea that Rabbit might think his new master was an odd fellow made Aaron blush brightly. When the shire reeve spoke again, his voice was high and tight. 

“Rabbit, I don’t expect you to perform sexual acts on demand. I prefer to keep feeding and sex acts separate. I’ve never…. I’ve… of course I’ve…. But not with a male rabbit. No. That’s not true. I have had a male rabbit before. But not in a sexual fashion. I kissed him once. I was…. young… foolish… in love…. I…… oh fuck, oh gods,” Aaron rumbled. 

The images flooded back to him, a night he would just as soon forget again for another thirty years. Anselm. Aaron had kissed his tutor once. His tutor had been forgiving and understanding. Though he had discouraged Aaron’s innocent attraction, he had not been unkind to the lad. Anselm had immediately arranged for Aaron to court with the daughter of one of Baron Rossen’s knights. The courting of the Lady Elizabeth had led to Aaron being challenged to a duel by the son of another one of Baron Rossen’s knights, a young man who had deemed himself far more worthy of possessing the Lady Elizabeth as his own bride. Lord George had wounded Aaron, and Anselm had interceded to save Aaron’s life. Lord George’s rabbit had then interjected his own blade in the mix, mortally-wounding Anselm, and ending the duel. Aaron had lost his mentor and friend all because of that one, fateful kiss. 

Rabbit’s face became tender with sympathy. He climbed up on his knees and plodded carefully towards Aaron. Rabbit slowly moved his hand towards Aaron’s waist. Aaron watched, frozen in disbelief. Was the young man reaching for the shire reeve’s belt? Was he going to undress Aaron, treat him like a newly-wedded virgin? 

No. Rabbit’s lithe fingers released Aaron’s dagger from his sheath. With a careful grip, Rabbit used the thin blade to nick one of his fingertips. He put Aaron’s blade back in its sheath, and then extended his dripping finger towards Aaron. 

The shire reeve fell down on his knees as he snatched the hand and pulled the finger deep into his mouth, sucking earnestly and eagerly. The taste of ink was mixed briefly with the metallic taste of the life-giving blood. 

Aaron couldn’t drink fast enough. If he wasn’t careful, he would drown in the well. That phrase described the experience when someone had abstained too long from taking blood antidote. When they finally did drink, they could be insatiable. ‘Drowning in the well’ could also be caused when a rabbit was not the strength their markings indicated, a serious offense indeed. If a one-hare rabbit posed as a two-hare rabbit for a customer or master, that person could drink and drink and drink, and never ingest enough antidote to fill their needs. It could lead to death for both the master and the rabbit. 

That wasn’t the case here though. Aaron was sure before he had taken a second slurp. Fire sizzled through his veins, his entire body. It was like ordering a cheap bottle of raw wine, and receiving the oldest, best vintage in the tavern. Rabbit’s blood antidote was surprisingly powerful, even in spite of his own degraded condition. Rabbit tasted amazing and delicious – there was no two ways about it. 

Aaron heard himself moan in delight. Rabbit nestled closer to Aaron, supporting the shire reeve’s frame as Aaron weaved with delirium. The shire reeve paused for a deep breath, mouth reddened. He couldn’t keep his eyes above shoulder level. He let himself study Rabbit’s nakedness. He could hardly avoid it, being on his knees right next to him. Maybe it was the effects of the blood antidote coursing through his veins, but suddenly, Rabbit was the most beguiling creature that Aaron had ever laid eyes on. Hair like silk. Eyes like fine gems. Even his scars and blemishes, the scores of moles and freckles across his bare skin, even they had a certain loveliness about them. There were bruises and bites on one of his hips, down between his thighs. Every mark was a masterpiece. Every inch of him was beautiful. Aaron felt it again – that protectiveness and territoriality that a master always feels for his rabbit. 

Aaron balanced himself against the young man, centering between his legs, brushing their bodies together through his own clothes. He was ashamed to feel himself growing hard with pleasure. It hadn’t taken more than a few more drops of Rabbit’s blood to satisfy Aaron’s antidote needs. The aches in his bones would diminish in minutes. The dizziness from the plague was long forgotten. But Aaron’s soul was soaring like he had never felt before. All he think about was pleasuring and soothing Rabbit. 

Aaron let go of Rabbit’s finger, and cupped his chin with one hand. He leaned in towards him, claiming that beautiful mouth with his own. Rabbit held very still. He was surprisingly permissive, considering it was rather a forward kiss. Aaron moaned again when Rabbit’s lips parted. Their tongues brushed together, and Aaron climbed upwards, pushing the young man back against the mattress. Rabbit’s slender legs went up around Aaron out of instinct. Long fingers traced Aaron’s hair, and moved slowly down his back. Rabbit’s kiss tasted nearly as delightful as his blood had. Saliva, Aaron reminded himself, also carried the necessary antidote. Any body fluid. Every body fluid. 

The shire reeve caught himself, when he watched Rabbit’s reaction to being mounted in such a fashion. The young man’s eyes glazed distantly. He turned his head to one side, and dropped his arms submissively on either side of his head. Shock flooded Aaron’s system at his own indiscrete and brutish behavior. He let go of Rabbit, stood away from the bed, and dropped his arms to cover his obvious erection. He was suddenly so ashamed of himself. Rabbit sat up, drawing a blanket around his nakedness. He touched his mouth, absently rubbing his bottom lip with his fingertips. He studied Aaron with concerned eyes, wondering if he had displeased his new master, wondering if he was about to feel his wrath.

“I’m…I’ll….I’m…. Forgive me,” Aaron babbled. He whirled around, raced for the loo, and pulled the door closed behind himself. He dropped to his knees on the hard stones, and panted in frustration. An all-consuming fire rushed him from head to toe.


	5. The Harpies of Rossengild

5 -- The Harpies of Rossengild

 

“We’ve a wee bit of coinage to spare. The ferry will be cheaper than two horses, provisions and hay, and stabling, and such. But travel by ferry can be hazardous too. We need a couple pairs of trousers for you, heavy shirts to ward against the cold, the other necessities, and good sturdy boots too. A cloak of course, though you could borrow one of mine in the meantime. It’s a boon you’re as tall as me. I’m shutting up now,” Aaron whispered. 

The shire reeve was escorting Rabbit through the halls of Castle Rossengild. As they had walked, his words had flowed like wine at a bacchanalia, so much so that Rabbit had paused in the middle of the hallway and blinked in surprise at Aaron. Was he having a hard time following what Aaron was saying? The shire reeve was giddy, excited to show Rabbit around, anxious to please him, nervously happy at his good fortune. What had seemed like fantastical dreams last night had turned out to be true life by the light of day. Aaron’s discounted, slightly-damaged, burlap-bagged bunny actually was a delicious, delightful, and attractive four-hare rabbit. What did it matter if he could not speak a word? Or if he jumped at loud noises? 

Rabbit tilted his head at Aaron. He didn’t know what to make of his new master, and the confusion showed on his face, though tinged with gentle amusement. When Aaron had finally emerged from the loo last night, he had found Rabbit dressed again, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for his return. When the shire reeve had approached, Rabbit had retreated off the bed, going to the chair by the fire. Aaron tried to coax him back to the bed. When that didn’t work, Aaron had brought two pillows and two blankets, and they both had slept on the rug before the hearth. What a curious sight that must have been for the servants who had come in the night to retrieve the food tray, the bath water, and the dirty laundry. 

“Forgive my rambling. I’m like this before a case. Anxious to get a start, that’s it. Don’t know if I’ll be able to wait until tomorrow,” Aaron bluffed. “I need to burn some energy. We’ll pop over to see Master Tailor. Any questions?” Aaron concluded. 

Rabbit shook his head no, eyes dropping to the floor. 

“Good! He’s up on the sixth floor in the third tower. Some would say it’s a nasty, distant garret, and not a nice place to put such an important man, but truth be told, Master Tailor likes it there. He hasn’t complained, at any rate. Perhaps because he’s furthest from the chapel bells, and he likes to sleep in. We’ll be lucky if he’s awake yet, to be honest.”

Rabbit followed quietly behind Aaron as the shire reeve quickly traversed the halls of Castle Rossengild. Lord Aaron did not stop for many people. Those they did pass made way for the shire reeve, giving him a nod or a bow. Aaron had a long, determined stride. He skipped down the staircases at a break-neck speed. He and Rabbit made very good time diagonally across the breadth of the giant fortress. 

“When I first came here as Baron Rossen’s squire, I got lost going around a corner. Then the baron himself led me through the walkways and shortcuts, particularly the one that cuts through the kitchens. You’ll never go amiss taking that route. I learned to carry silk ribbons and pennies on my person, to bribe the cooks and the maids out of fresh bread, or meat pies, or a small chicken leg if it was a lucky day. I was very much about the food when we first arrived. I suppose if you miss a few meals, it makes you keen to protect future interests. Matilda will be up and around, and on her third tray of pastries by this point. Mind if we pop through?”

Rabbit followed without protest, drinking in the layout and the contents of each room with an open door. When they entered the kitchens, his eyes nearly fell out of his head. They went past several pantries, each for storing a particular food product (bread ingredients, potatoes, root veggies, salted cured meats, game birds strung up to properly age, pots of fresh milk and cream and butter). Rabbit’s stomach was growling hungrily, and Aaron lingered with great interest at the hearth where a kitchen lad was turning a turkey on a spit and poking at strips of bacon laid out in a flat pan. 

Rabbit stayed quietly in the background when Aaron wrapped a big hug around a tall woman laboring over a large tray of baked goods. Both their faces were wreathed with beaming smiles.

“My lord! You’ve returned!” she exclaimed.

“Matilda, I could never stay away from your cooking for long. No one’s pastries can compare with yours,” Aaron promised. 

“How are things with you, Master Reeve?” the cook inquired, dark eyes drifting in Rabbit’s direction. “This is your new rabbit?” 

“He is.” 

“Welcome,” Matilda offered. Rabbit bowed his head shyly as he nodded to her. “He’s a thin one, Aaron. Grab some buns. Give that boy some food. You’re headed to see Master Tailor, are you?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“You shouldn’t be walking your bunny-boy around this place in his socks,” the cook chided Aaron.

“We’re headed to get a pair of boots and clothes for him. My boots were too small for him. We tried,” Aaron mumbled, mouth full of sticky bun. He plunked a bun in Rabbit’s hand, and turned to peck a kiss on Matilda’s cheek. 

“He’s a quiet one,” she remarked, picking up two more buns, pushing them into their grips. 

“I’m headed into the village later. Can I bring you anything, Matilda?” 

“No, love. I’m good up. But thank you for asking. Go on then. Hurry along.”

“What’s on the menu for lunch?” Aaron asked. 

“Whatever the Baron requires,” Matilda called back as Aaron and Rabbit vanished around the corner. 

Aaron busily devoured both buns. Rabbit wrapped the second bun in a linen napkin he must have swiped from the kitchens, stuffing it in one of his loose pockets. He ate most of the first bun as they climbed another tower. There were traces of cinnamon on his chin. His smile warmed Aaron’s heart on so many levels. He might spend the rest of the day in a very good mood. Or not. 

Voices were evident before they reached their destination. Cackles, shrieks, and feminine giggling echoed down the tower steps. The moment Aaron heard the sounds, a dark cloud crossed his face. 

“Gods above and gods below,” he whispered to Rabbit, putting a hand on his shoulder. “The Lady Guinevere and her entourage – the harpies of Rossengild. Be on your guard, my friend.”

Rabbit’s face filled with concern. Aaron patted his arm, and tugged him up the stairs. They knocked loudly on the open wooden door in order to be heard over the cacophony of shrieking and cackling. 

“….and the Lady Beatrice had the nerve to be upset with me. As though she had any right? I don’t understand why running an orphanage should require such great amounts of money. I’m sure she’ll be able to make do with half as much. If she continues to hound me, she’ll be forced to make do with half as much again than that! If she isn’t careful, she and her brood of snout-nosed urchins are going to find themselves out in the street. Oh!”

The small, bony blonde turned around when she saw new faces reflected behind her in the mirror where she had been studying her unfinished gown. The dress was a hideous, red eyesore. A man was kneeling in front of her, using straight pins to tuck ribbons and lace along the hem of the full-length ensemble. When the small woman whirled around to greet Lord Aaron, the man at Guinevere’s feet had no choice but to let go of the dress and the ribbons, for fear of tearing the outfit. Several straight pins spilled across the floor. The only thing keeping the man on the floor from cursing out loud was the fact he was holding several more pins in between his lips. 

“Lord Aaron of Hotchner. Good morning to you, and to your friend. I have been most anxious to see you, and to welcome your new rabbit to our home. I am the Lady Guinevere of Castle Rossengild.”

She stuck her hand at Rabbit, palm down, back up, and waited. He stepped unsurely back from her hand, and gave Aaron a questioning look. The shire reeve took the lady’s hand, bent and kissed it, standing up again. Rabbit and Aaron exchanged a brief glance. Rabbit pantomimed the same actions that Aaron had performed, taking a small lick and taste of the Lady Guinevere’s icy flesh. When Rabbit touched the lady’s hand, she seized his fingers in her grip and tugged him three feet closer to her for a more detailed inspection. 

“I guess the tales I heard weren’t true. Peggy told me that Lady Constance told her that your rabbit was dragged through the halls, wrapped in a burlap bag from the village market, kicking and biting the whole way. I can’t look at this shy, delicate creature, and imagine such a rumor has the tiniest fraction of truth to it. Peggy, shame on you for lying to me. I shall have to punish you later.” 

“But, my lady, that is what the Lady Constance told me,” a young girl barely in her teens insisted. She was attempting to pick up the ribbons and pins that had gone flying when Lady Guinevere had spun around at the mirror. 

“Let’s have a look at you,” Guinevere cackled. She dove forward, pulling at Rabbit’s shirt ties, and yanking open the right side of his collar as far as she could. Rabbit gasped in surprise and backed away, eyes wide, face red. Lord Aaron intervened as the group of three harpies who kept constant company with Lady Guinevere laughed and hooted with amusement. Particular among them was the Lady Penelope, a stout, buxom woman with bright blonde hair and a pair of spectacles perched on her nose. She was far into middle age but acted as though she were a bright, perky teen. Also present was the Lady Erica, who fancied herself a great writer, though her laborious works did not rise above the level of childish fairy tales and clumsy, girlish prose. Lastly was the Lady Beth, who fancied herself a great expert in art. She was so much like the Lady Erica in face and clothes as to sometimes be mistaken as her sister or even her twin. 

“Guinevere!” Aaron chided loudly and sternly, putting himself between the small menace and his rabbit. The tailor was so astonished, he nearly swallowed his pins, either at Guinevere’s actions or Aaron’s response. The shire reeve took the Lady Guinevere by her arms and set her bodily back, keeping himself in front of her to protect Rabbit. Guinevere’s pretty face mutated and twisted into undisguised hatred. 

“You forget yourself, Master Reeve, to address me so familiarly. To say nothing of putting your hands on a woman not your wife. How very savage of you.”

“If anyone here is behaving like a savage, madam, it is you. I will thank you kindly not to tear the clothes off my companion in your overt attempt to discover his markings,” Aaron issued the admonishing words with an icy bite to them which wounded the lady, in spite of her attempts to hide her hurt. She pulled herself up to her tallest, and took a deep breath at him. 

“This is my castle, and I will tear the clothes of whoever I please,” she remarked snidely, curling her mouth downward, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You should tell the Baron how rude the shire reeve is to you,” the Lady Penelope interjected, looking down her nose at both Aaron and his scrappy rabbit. 

“Yes, yes, you should,” the other harpies chorused.

“Where are your manners this morning, ladies? If you wish to know my rabbit’s markings, you should ask him politely,” Aaron replied, towering over the gaggle and moving them all back a step or two. “Before you go running to the Baron, Guinevere, you would do well to remember that this is his castle, not yours. You’re no more Mistress of Rossengild than I am.”

“How dare you!” the Lady Guinevere hissed. 

“You and I both remain here only while we are in the Baron’s good graces. It wouldn’t do for either of us to act out above our station, would it? What are we, after all, but two orphans who depend upon his gracious mercy? Neither one of us should ever dare to take advantage of the good man’s kindness,” Aaron continued. 

“Come now, let’s be friends, again, Lord Aaron. I did not mean to give offense, and I’m sure you did not either.” The Lady Guinevere changed her tune, sniffling softly, working her face back to a kind and tender visage. Her act didn’t fool Aaron or Rabbit either one. “What are his markings then? Please, may I know?” the Lady Guinevere wheedled in a small voice. 

Lord Aaron faced Rabbit, asking his permission without words. Rabbit was struggling to hide his emotions again. He did not want him to say. Aaron understood why, but he didn’t feel he had much choice. She was going to find out sooner or later. Aaron studied Lady Guinevere for half a moment before he answered. 

“He is a four-hare rabbit.” 

The ladies all gasped collectively. 

“Such lies! I don’t believe you,” the Lady Guinevere retorted. 

Rabbit tugged up the hem of his shirt and slid it off over his head. There was another gasp when his four-hare tattoo hit the light of day. Even the Lady Guinevere was profoundly surprised. 

“That’s not possible,” she gasped, moving forward again. “There hasn’t been a genuine four-hare rabbit in Quantico for decades. He’s a forgery,” she proclaimed with a sniff of disdain. Aaron shook his head no. “I don’t believe you. I won’t believe you until I’ve tasted him myself.”

Rabbit was slipping his shirt back on over his head, his face red with shame. 

“When have you ever tasted a four-hare rabbit?” Aaron teased Guinevere, not unkindly. 

“Only once, but I would know the burn. May I taste him?” 

“My lady, your coarse request breaches all polite etiquette.” 

“I won’t believe he is not a forgery unless you let me taste him,” the Lady Guinevere insisted. “I will tell everyone at court that your rabbit been marked up. Why doesn’t he defend himself?” 

“He is awfully quiet,” the Lady Penelope observed with distaste. 

“He’s mute,” Aaron growled in a painfully-annoyed voice as he touched his own throat and thereby drew the attention of the gathered ladies up to the scar on Rabbit’s throat. 

“Exactly how I like a man. Docile and silent. Come here. Kneel. I wish to taste you,” the lady demanded. 

Lord Aaron shook his head at her impertinence. 

“What is the wretch’s name? Make him obey me, Master Reeve,” Guinevere demanded haughtily. 

“What a dreadful state your manners are in, Lady Guinevere!” the shire reeve chided her again. “I will not ask him to prick a finger for you. Your request is unseemly. He and I have bonded.” 

“Who mentioned fingers? I prefer to feed from the neck. Why do you think Peggy wears such high collars?” the Lady Guinevere interjected. “I promise not to drain him. I only want a small taste.” 

Aaron gave Peggy a pitying glance. The young rabbit was trying to hide her hurt. It must have been hard, seeing her mistress showing interest in another rabbit, making her feel inadequate, no doubt. A rabbit’s position was always tenuous. 

“It is not my decision, Lady Guinevere. You should be begging permission from my rabbit, not from me,” Lord Aaron growled. 

“I’m not begging him for anything,” the Lady Guinevere snorted. 

“You will if you want a taste of him, you little viper,” Aaron mocked. 

The Lady Guinevere ignored the shire reeve, and snatched up Rabbit’s hand, putting his finger into her mouth. While Aaron could have easily slapped her away from Rabbit, he was too stunned by her inappropriate actions to either stop her or shout at her. 

Rabbit’s face buckled up with pain. To his credit, he didn’t move an inch. Perhaps he was too surprised as well. Aaron’s heart seized up in his chest, and it seemed as though each drop of blood that Rabbit lost drained not only from Rabbit but from Aaron as well. Plain jealousy and unreasonable fury raged through Aaron as the Lady Guinevere closed her eyes and moaned in ecstasy. Her gaggle of ladies moved in tighter around her, like jackals who could smell a fresh kill. The Lady Penelope’s eyes glittered with jealousy. They all pawed at the Lady Guinevere, keen to know her opinion on Rabbit’s potency.

Rabbit finally managed to retract his finger out of Guinevere’s mouth. It took more than a couple rough tugs. He had had to resort to pinching her on the arm to make her let go. His skin was raw and rough with bite marks. Aaron was frankly surprised he had a ten fingertips to call his own.

“Is he a forgery, my lady?” the Lady Penelope inquired of her mistress. 

The Lady Guinevere had almost forgotten how to breathe. She put a hand to her pinched arm, and sat down abruptly on the floor. 

“Genuine,” she declared, gasping once, twice, and fanning her face. Her gathered ladies all set their eyes on Rabbit with a desperate hunger. So frightening were their faces that Lord Aaron feared they were about to fly into a feeding frenzy, that they would attack Rabbit and devour him, blood, flesh, and bone, right there on the spot. Rabbit understood what kind of danger he was in. He moved quickly back from the harpies, and they moved forward. Aaron drew his long dagger, and pointed it in their general direction as he tucked Rabbit safely behind himself. That brought all the biddies to a halt. 

“The next one of you who so much as reaches at my rabbit will lose an ear, or a hand, or a nose, or whatever part of you I can manage to remove. Do I make myself clear?” Lord Aaron intoned deeply. He wasn’t yelling, truly he hadn’t raised his voice. But his words reverberated around the room. 

“Calm yourselves, ladies. We don’t want to alarm the shire reeve any further,” the Lady Guinevere tittered. She was glowing with renewed strength, having sucked not only blood but life-force from Rabbit’s veins. “With your permission, Lord Aaron, I should like to breed your rabbit with my Peggy.”

The Lady Guinevere was back on her feet with the help of her ladies. Aaron hid his distaste behind a sharp humor.

“You are astonishingly bold, I must say. Do you want them to fornicate here? Now? On the floor? On the counter? Are you keen to watch? Is that your secret fetish? You cannot be serious, my lady.”

“I wouldn’t ask them to copulate here in front of polite company. I’m sure Master Tailor would allow them to use a back room,” the Lady Guinevere replied, casting an evil stare at the man, who looked to Aaron for help and support. The shire reeve wasn’t sure who was more frightened at the prospect of what the Lady Guinevere had suggested. Peggy was shaking, and Rabbit was turning green around the gills. The tailor looked simply horrified. 

“Do you actually think I would order my rabbit to spill his seed for you on demand?” Aaron hissed, feeling his territorial anger rise to the fore. “Madam, you must ask his permission, not mine, and if he is so inclined, I will respect his wishes. You will ask this time. You will not take.” Aaron made his point perfectly clear to her, emphasizing his words with the end of his dagger. 

The Lady Guinevere gave Rabbit a demanding stare. He bowed his head, and stood closer to Aaron, nearly hiding behind him. 

“Yes or no? It is your choice,” Lord Aaron promised. Rabbit shook his head no. The Lady Guinevere flamed furious again, all good manners forgotten. She was almost as red as her dress. 

“This is nonsense. What if I buy him from you? You’ve only had him for one day. You cannot have bonded too strongly with him yet. I will pay four times whatever your squire had jingling in his pocket yesterday morning when he went shopping for you. You can buy yourself a different rabbit, a more appropriate rabbit for a man of your station,” the Lady Guinevere offered. 

The tailor was shaking his head in disbelief, though carefully, so carefully. Aaron didn’t want to break form or draw attention to the tailor. Aaron distracted from Tailor’s actions by having an understated outburst of his own. 

“My dear Lady Guinevere, I will hear no more of your impolite requests. Your continued coarseness breaches all good manners.” 

“What do good manners matter between orphans like us? Five times your price. My final offer,” the lady replied. 

“Good morning, Master Tailor,” Baron Rossen’s voice spread across the room like a thunderclap on a clear day. Everyone scattered to the outskirts of the room, and either bowed or curtseyed or dropped to their knees in reverence to the Master of Castle Rossengild. The only two people standing were Rabbit and the Baron. When Rossen’s eyes fell on the tall man, there was a twinkle of mischief that ran through their dark depths. 

“You should kneel before the baron,” Aaron explained gently. Rabbit heard Aaron’s words, and slid gracefully to the ground. “He meant no disrespect, my lord baron. I believe he is simple as well as mute.”

“No offense taken,” the baron promised. “Perhaps he has never been in court before, and does not know our etiquette. Indeed also, he might be simple.” 

“I apologize profoundly for him, my lord baron,” Lord Aaron continued. 

“No need, my friend,” Baron Rossen promised. “Rise, all of you. Now tell me, Lord Aaron. Why was the Lady Guinevere offering you such a dazzling sum of money? Have you struck a bargain on a marriage union after all? I do hope you demanded a very steep price. You are worth every penny.”

The baron clapped his hand on Aaron’s shoulder, and they shared a laugh. The Lady Guinevere was not amused. She frowned, her lips curling downward. Her blue eyes sharpened to nasty points. She stuck out a pout that would have made a toddler ashamed. 

“We were discussing a price for his rabbit. I offered Lord Aaron five times what he paid. He refused me out of hand without even giving serious consideration. Make him reconsider, Uncle. I want his rabbit to breed with my Peggy. Maybe with Abby too.” 

“Lord Aaron, did you consider the lady’s request?” Baron Rossen asked. 

“I considered her request, my lord, and politely rejected it, because I have already bonded with my new rabbit. I cannot bear to be parted from him.” 

“There you are, madam. Your offer was considered and rejected. What more do you expect of me?”

“You could order your shire reeve to sell his rabbit to me. It’s unseemly that a lowly knight should strut around Castle Rossengild with a four-hare rabbit on his arm. There hasn’t been a four-hare rabbit in Quantico in decades. He should belong to me,” the Lady Guinevere pouted even harder. Her lip was thrust so far forward, she could barely speak a full word.

“Is he really a four-hare rabbit?” Baron Rossen asked. 

“He is, my lord.”

“He should be mine, not yours,” the Lady Guinevere pouted. 

“My dear child, you yourself employ three, three-hare rabbits to see to your feeding needs, so by my calculations, your three rabbits together make a nine-hare rabbit, and thus you outclass Lord Aaron’s one four-hare rabbit by more than half. I fail to understand your displeasure with the situation,” Baron Rossen replied, all the while keeping the smile on his face. 

“I employ three rabbits because I must feed round the clock. I have to keep up my poor health, after all. If I kept but one rabbit, she would be drained in no time at all. Female rabbits are always weaker than male rabbits. You could grant me permission to own a male rabbit instead of a female. A male rabbit would be stronger, more life-sustaining. Then perhaps I might need only one rabbit, particularly if he were a four-hare rabbit like this one here. How often do you find them? It’s an opportunity I must seize. Surely, you do understand? Make your shire reeve sell me his rabbit, Uncle.” 

“My dear lady, I must refuse your request. Lord Aaron has already bonded with his rabbit. I will not part them.”

“They can’t possibly be bonded yet,” Guinevere pouted.

“Who are you to speak of how long it takes for two people to bond? Sometimes these bonds are instantaneous, and they are for a lifetime. It is a tremble in the heart that cannot be ignored. And besides that, it would be too unseemly for an unmarried woman to employ a male rabbit. The other ladies at court would speak ill of you if I indulged you so. Were you not the one who most staunchly supported the exile of the Lady Rosalind when it was found her craftsman was serving as both a rabbit and a lover? How would it look for you to now take up the habits you spoke so strongly against not a month ago?” the baron chided her. 

“Fine. I don’t care. I don’t want your mute and simple idiot rabbit anyway,” the Lady Guinevere flounced about as she crossed her arms over her chest and sneered at Lord Aaron as though she were a child who had been denied a treat. 

“Take each other’s hands, and make friends again. I do insist,” the baron ordered, noting the reluctance on both Aaron and Guinevere’s faces. The Lady Guinevere stuck out her tiny, manicured paw, heaving up a very put-upon sigh as she did so.

Lord Aaron took the hand, bent and kissed the lady’s jeweled fingers, and drew away again. There was a trace of merriment on the Baron’s face which wisely disappeared as the stern shire reeve stood tall once more. 

“Is this your gown for the presentation ceremony?” the baron asked the Lady Guinevere.

“It is. Do you like it?” 

The tailor bowed and nodded, still holding pins between his lips. It was disconcerting that he did not remove them, as though perhaps his mouth was tacked closed with the sharp objects. 

“It’s absolutely ravishing on you, my dear. Don’t you agree, Lord Aaron?” the baron was seeking to soothe the Lady Guinevere with tenderness and flattery. Although Aaron was loathe to play along, he did so for his beloved baron’s sake. 

“There is no lady at court who could wear that color the way you do,” Aaron offered diplomatically. The bells in the chapel tower began to chime. 

“Oh dear!” the Baron exclaimed. “Nine bells, and you’re but half dressed. Don’t you have a class? Think of all those young girls waiting on pins and needles for your learned instruction. You should hurry, my dear. Don’t keep them waiting long. They’ll get up to mischief in your absence.” 

Lady Guinevere fled behind a curtain, tore off her unfinished gown, and pulled on her clothes. There was much squawking and dashing back and forth on the part of the harpies, gathering this and that and other things. Together they all chased out the tailor’s door like a coven of witches on a brisk October wind. The portal banged closed. The sound and fury of their unholy procession could be heard whisking down the tower and across the courtyard below. 

The Baron peered out the tailor’s closest window, shaking his head in dismay. 

“Aaron, I advise you to be cautious with her. There’s a thin line between love and hate, and I’m not so sure the Lady Guinevere always makes a clear distinction.” 

“I will make myself as scarce as a five-hare rabbit at feeding frenzy,” the shire reeve promised the baron. “Master Tailor, I do apologize for barging in and being a nuisance to you,” Aaron said as he nodded to the other man. 

The tailor stood, retracted the pins from between his lips, and went directly to the shoe racks. He came back with a pair of supple, dark brown boots, which he handed to Rabbit.

“Some bring joy wherever they go. Some, whenever they go. (*1*) You belong to the first category, Master Reeve. You are never a nuisance,” the tailor smiled before turning his attention to Rabbit. “What are you doing, walking your bunny-boy around the castle half-dressed? Let’s get him kitted out then. Give these a try. Too small? What long feet you have! Let’s try a different pair. Give these a shot. Good, good.”

Rabbit sat on the floor and pulled on the right boot of the second pair, and they fit him as if they had been fashioned for his leg alone. He pulled on the left boot, and climbed to his feet. There he bent forward in order to fold the leather cuffs slightly above the knees. Baron Rossen watched Lord Aaron stare unabashedly up and down the length of Rabbit’s long legs, which were only accentuated by the gorgeous boots. 

Master Tailor dug around in another trunk, and brought back a wide belt of the same dark brown, which he wrapped around Rabbit’s thin waist. Although he had to poke a new hole to keep the belt from slipping down, one could not but appreciate the remarkable effect the boots and belt had on Rabbit’s appearance. 

“I’ve a spare cloak too,” Tailor purred. “With a hood. You’ll need it if you plan to be out and about in this snow. If you’re going to be in the company of the shire reeve, I recommend a stop in the armory. A dagger and a rapier? Have you any experience with weapons?”

Rabbit shook his head no to the question, but no one except the tailor noticed. Aaron nodded his approval when the tailor flung the dark brown cloak around Rabbit’s tall frame. Rabbit lifted the hood and hid away inside, lowering his head and smiling downward. He pushed back the hood long enough to glance unsurely at his master. 

“How much do I owe you?” Aaron asked Tailor. 

“On the house,” Tailor grinned in reply. “That there, the way you handled the Lady Guinevere, that was better than an evening performance at the Wooden Planks, it was.”

“Thank you kindly, Master Tailor,” Aaron bowed, thumbing around for coinage to drop into the tip jar on the counter.

“Send his bill to me, Master Tailor,” Baron Rossen interjected. “ ‘On the house’ is not going to feed six children and two nieces and a wife to boot.”

“You are a very kind and giving man, Baron,” the tailor bowed to the baron, and straightened up again to set an eye on Rabbit. “Never thought I’d lay eyes on a four-hare rabbit in my life,” the tailor whispered to the baron as Aaron was bowing to Rossen. 

“Thank you, my lord baron,” the shire reeve intoned gratefully. 

“Aaron, is he really a four-hare rabbit?” Baron Rossen wanted to confirm. 

“A simple and mute four-hare rabbit,” Aaron reminded his master gently. “That must be the only explanation for where Karl found him, and for such a discounted price. He was in an awful state yesterday.”

“Where is Karl this morning?” the baron wondered.

“With Rose and the baby. They are both feeling poorly. I do hope they make it to the presentation ceremony.” 

“So do I. I must say, your bunny-boy is very pleasing to the eye. I can see why your squire was confused on the matter of his gender. If you’ve finished with Master Tailor, we should make haste. I have a guest in the study, and we should not keep her waiting,” the baron jested. 

“The Lady Prentiss?”

“Indeed,” Baron Rossen replied.

“Why did she come from the Occoquan to Quantico? I thought I was to meet her there in three days’ time.” 

“She came because there’s been another death, here in Quantico. Aaron, we should not keep her waiting.” 

“Why should she mind waiting?” 

“She doesn’t mind waiting. I mind that she waits, particularly when she does so within arms’ reach of my most delicate, political correspondence.”

“Why didn’t you bring her with you?” Aaron asked as Baron Rossen nodded his goodbyes to Tailor and headed down the tower steps. The baron paused to reply to Aaron’s question.

“She is wearing pants again. It isn’t safe to parade her around the castle that way. Think of how the ladies would gossip! Think of how my knights will stare!” 

Aaron started down the steps, tugging Rabbit along behind. 

 

 

*1* This quote is from Oscar Wilde.


	6. The Lady Prentiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read Interlude 1

Part Two -- Quantico   
Chapter 6 -- The Lady Prentiss 

 

“Where have you been? What took you so long?! We’re going to have to move fast on this man, if we stand any chance in hell of catching him in the act.”

While there had been a joke on his lips when they had entered the private study, the Baron chose not to voice his humor, owing to the seriousness in the tone of the woman who pounced on them as the door opened. Their raven-haired guest had been seated, flipping through the pages she had brought with her, making mental notes about the case which had been vexing her for months now. She rose up to chastise them, and then bowed as Baron Rossen moved around the desk and sat down. Lord Aaron stopped when he entered, a smile rising to his face. Rabbit entered the room and stayed as close behind Aaron as he could.

“Madam Reeve, your state of dress? In your haste, did you forget to put on a proper gown?” Aaron asked. 

“Does my choice of attire offend you, Master Reeve?”

“It does not offend me, madam, but there are those who would consider it quite scandalous for a lady to wear trousers. They might lock you in stocks, and pelt you with rotten fruit, or have you declared unfit for your position.” 

“Have you ever tried to ride a horse in a dress?” 

“That would be rare indeed, madam, a horse in a dress,” Aaron returned humorously. The Lady Prentiss chuckled quietly, shaking her head at him.

“Why don’t we concentrate on tracking our prey instead of my choice of attire?” she suggested quietly and not without a trace of annoyance in her tone. She turned her attention to Rabbit, and Aaron interceded in his defense. 

“He’s my new rabbit,” Aaron explained. 

“Why does he not introduce himself?” 

“He does not mean to offend. He is mute and simple of mind.” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” the Lady Prentiss murmured. Rabbit rubbed the scar on his throat, and gave her a childlike smile. “May I borrow your cloak, sir? I find there is a chill in the air in this study.” 

Rabbit pulled off his new cloak, and offered it to the Lady Prentiss with a polite bow. As she clicked the clasp at her neck, Aaron noticed the gold rondelles on each side of the throat were depictions of rippling water and long, grass reeds tipped out with soft, spongy ends. 

“Thank you, sir,” the Lady Prentiss murmured with a quick bow. Rabbit blushed brightly, and bowed again in reply. She had no doubt borrowed the cloak to conceal her outfit. “What is your name?” the Lady Prentiss asked Rabbit, sticking her hand at him. 

Unlike the Lady Guinevere, the Lady Prentiss offered her hand slightly sideways with the palm up. She did not expect to be kissed or worshipped. She wanted to shake his hand as a man might have done. Rabbit timidly extended his thin, gaunt fingers to her. “I’m Emily,” she added softly. “Don’t you have a name, sir?”

Rabbit let go of her hand, and dug in his trouser pockets. He pulled out the napkin-wrapped sweet bun, and set it in her grip. Then he pulled out a small piece of parchment and gave it to her proudly. The Lady Prentiss examined the scrap, with Aaron’s name on one side and Rabbit’s name on the other. She gave Aaron a sideways glance of pity and concern. 

“Is this your calling card? Rabbit. That’s your name? Have you none other?” she asked, giving him back his bun and the piece of parchment as well. He tucked them both back in his pocket, ducking shyly back from her once more. “Do you intend to bring him along?” the Lady Prentiss asked Aaron. 

“Yes,” the shire reeve answered defensively. 

“Then the least you can do is give him a full name,” she chided. “The way some of you treat your rabbits? It’s terrifying.” 

“Easy for you to say, being unheeded by such needs,” Aaron chided back tenderly. 

“True that I am blessed, to be immune. The gods smiled on me in some ways, and expressed extreme displeasure with me in others,” the Lady Prentiss acknowledged. “What happened to your hand?” she asked, indicating Rabbit’s forefinger, which was clearly bruised. At least his nails looked nice after being carefully trimmed. Aaron had gotten a giggle or two when dealing with Rabbit’s toenails. 

“The Lady Guinevere bit him,” Aaron remarked with a frown. 

“You should clean and bind the wound. She is a venomous creature,” the Lady Prentiss cautioned.

“May we discuss the details of your case? You said the circumstances are dire and require quick action,” Baron Rossen interrupted their exchange, looking rather amused though he struggled not to show it. 

“Indeed, my lord Baron, the circumstances are very dire. There has been another death, two deaths, counting mistress and rabbit. The Lady Rosalind and her rabbit, Shannon of Quantico. You do know the lady. She was recently banished from court, accused of being unmarried and taking a male rabbit as her own. Her body was found yesterday evening, and beside her, her new rabbit. The new rabbit was clinging to life, but has since also died. Caroline, the lady’s maid, has given them both up to the reeds. I chanced upon her in a tavern in the village yesterday, where she told me the entire sad tale,” the Lady Prentiss explained. 

“What miraculous luck that you stumbled across her when you did,” Baron Rossen commented.

“I was very lucky indeed,” she agreed.

“You said ‘new rabbit’. What became of her old rabbit, the one for whom the Lady Rosalind was banished?” Aaron asked. 

They gathered around the Baron’s desk. The Lady Prentiss sat, and Aaron stood, studying each page that she turned over for their inspection. Rabbit lingered at the perimeter of the room, his interest captured by the rows of tiny bottles that the Baron had lined up on a side table, with a carafe of water and a sachet of sweet-smelling potpourri. 

“Her former rabbit was forced to seek a new master, though he continues to hold the Lady Rosalind in high regard. I was able to seek him out, and he gave me his statement as well. The Lady Rosalind and Grosbeak bartered for a new rabbit. She had little money, but Miles is a three-hare rabbit, and she had hoped to bargain. That’s how I know Grosbeak is connected to the incidents both here in Quantico and in the Occoquan. He’s had direct contact with every one of my victims.” 

“Was Miles angry with the Lady Rosalind? Perhaps it was he who poisoned the new rabbit out of jealousy, and thereby also poisoned the Lady Rosalind?” Aaron suggested. 

There was a clink and thump to their right. Aaron turned to the side to see that Rabbit was picking up the baron’s medicine bottles, examining their contents, taking minute tastes of each. 

“Rabbit!” Aaron scolded, rising up from where he was leaning. 

Rabbit went stiff, and set down the bottle he was holding. It landed with a thump on the table, unharmed. Aaron walked over, took Rabbit’s hand, and pulled him over to the desk. 

“I apologize, my lord Baron. He’s curious as a child, but he means no harm,” the shire reeve bowed. Aaron scolded Rabbit silently, pointing to a spot, and making Rabbit stand right where he had pointed. The young man stood where he was directed, staring down at his folded hands, his eyes darting sideways back to the table of medicines. 

“No harm done,” Baron Rossen sighed with a tiny smile. He stared down Aaron’s arm, and smiled slightly wider. The shire reeve realized he was clutching Rabbit’s hand, and tightly too. 

“Back to the case,” Aaron insisted, reluctantly letting go of Rabbit, giving him a small swat on the butt for his troubles. 

“Miles did not kill the Lady Rosalind. He would not have,” the Lady Prentiss insisted. 

“It would not be the first time that jealousy drove a rabbit to take a life,” the Baron murmured. 

“Of course, not. I realize it’s possible, but there are extenuating circumstances.” 

“Such as?” 

“The Lady Rosalind treated him with great kindness. Miles adored her. He was devastated to learn of her death. Not only that, he liked her new rabbit very much. They were acquainted. He helped the Lady Rosalind select her from Grosbeak’s stock.”

“You don’t find that suspicious?” Aaron wondered. 

“No. Those are the actions of a man who did not wish to harm the woman he loves, someone who wanted to see that she was provided for, that she had the blood antidote that she needed to survive. If Miles had wanted the Lady Rosalind dead, all he had to do was prevent her obtaining a new rabbit.”

“I would like to speak with Miles and the Lady Rosalind’s maid myself, if that’s possible?” Aaron requested. 

“It is. The maid said she would be staying with a friend until she decides where to go and what to do. Miles is with his new master, the village blacksmith.”

“Very well and good,” Aaron agreed. 

“I can take you there right away, if you are not otherwise occupied?” the Lady Prentiss suggested. 

“The sooner, the better,” the shire reeve agreed. “By your leave, of course, Lord Baron?” 

“By all means,” Baron Rossen murmured happily. “I’ll leave you two, you three, to decide your course of action. I need to find Ashleigh. I’m feeling in need of her company.” 

The Baron rose from his desk, gave them all a polite bow, and headed for the door to the study. Rabbit watched Lord David go, studying him with curious eyes which catalogued the man from head to toe. Aaron watched his master leave, and wondered what about the man had so captivated Rabbit’s attention. The moment the Baron had departed the room and closed the door, Rabbit’s gaze went back to the table of medicine bottles. Rabbit tugged Aaron towards the small table, and pointed at the stoppered phials.

“Those are for his health, and you need to leave them alone,” the shire reeve scolded softly, frowning at Rabbit. The young man moved the bottles into a line, and held them up to Aaron one at a time. “Why are you so curious about them?” 

Rabbit gave the first bottle to Aaron, and reached down to touch him on the left knee. Aaron paused, read the label on the bottle, and set it back down.

“The Baron took an arrow above the left knee in the Border Wars. He was laid up for months. The wound healed, but it gives him pain in cold weather. He has a slight limp. This is to help ease that pain,” the shire reeve explained. 

Rabbit lifted a red bottle, and light danced on the floor, up across the Lady Prentiss. He gave the second bottle to Aaron, and touched the shire reeve’s right ear. Aaron nodded and explained. 

“The Baron had command of the war machines for a short time during one battle. He came away partially deaf, standing too close to the cannons. We both did. Loud noises can trigger headaches. This is for those headaches.” 

Rabbit pointed to a third bottle, and patted Aaron’s stomach.

“Yes. Essence of mallow, for indigestion when the Baron over-indulges.” 

“Seems to me your new rabbit must have once belonged to an apothecary,” the Lady Prentiss remarked, sorting pages of parchment and stacking them up in a sheaf together. She was pretending to read the reports, but she was clearly more focused on the interactions between Aaron and Rabbit. 

“What?” Aaron asked her. Rabbit lifted the silvery bottle, and held it up to the light. He prodded Aaron again. “I don’t know what that one is for, I’m afraid.” 

Rabbit patted Aaron’s chest.

“I don’t understand,” the shire reeve frowned. 

Rabbit touched the middle of Aaron’s chest, and gently thumped his fingers up and down a couple times. 

“It’s for the Baron’s heart,” the Lady Prentiss explained. Aaron turned at stared at her, mouth hanging open. “He’s been experiencing dizziness. When we climbed the stairs together, he was very short of breath. That potion is for his heart.” 

“How do you know that?” Aaron asked. 

“My father took the same potion, though it was too late to save his life, alas. I recognize the bottle and the astrological symbol. That’s tincture of foxglove. What’s more, Master Reeve, your rabbit recognized it as well. Mute he may be, but he is not as simple of mind as you would like to believe,” the Lady Prentiss commented. 

Rabbit put the bottle back into place, lined them all up neatly, and dodged the curious eyes Aaron was sending his way. Rabbit tried to appear as innocent and harmless as possible, giving a tiny smile and bowing his head down.

“Did you once belong to an apothecary?” Aaron asked. 

Rabbit looked too frightened to answer. He bowed his head lower, rolling and unrolling the material at the end of his linen shirt. His tiny smile faded away to sadness. Aaron bent down to study Rabbit’s face, and then petted his arm.

“Don’t be afraid to answer. Was he cruel to you?” Aaron asked softly. Rabbit’s bottom lip disappeared, and the tips of his front teeth left marks on his skin. 

“Shall we head into the village?” the Lady Prentiss suggested. 

“We can’t go into the village until you are properly dressed,” Aaron replied, taking Rabbit’s hand and holding it in his own as he fought down the emotions roiling in his chest. Defensive anger pulsed down deep. He held onto Rabbit’s delicate hand, and fought away unpleasant images in his mind of all the scars which covered Rabbit’s body. 

“Thank you, kind sir, for the loan of your cloak,” the Lady Prentiss said as she gave Rabbit back his garment. 

“Madam Reeve, I am quite serious. You will need to clothe yourself in female attire before we can venture into the village. It’s for your own safety,” Aaron warned.

“Master Reeve, I can’t decide if that remark is a compliment or a threat.” 

“It is not a threat at all. I am concerned for you, as a colleague and a friend.” 

“Lord Aaron, you don’t have to pretend when the Baron is not around. You don’t like the idea of me being an under-shire reeve. You think a woman is unfit for such a position.” 

“What I think, Madam Reeve, is that you are quite good at your job. Should Lord Strauss see fit to promote you to shire reeve, he would have my support in that decision, and with Baron Rossen’s support as well.”

“But you don’t like a woman in my role. You believe I should be performing less dangerous tasks, like standing at the village gates, measuring axle widths, and enforcing the five-foot standard.” 

“Do not mock. That is a very serious task. The roads would be nothing but chaos if every vehicle had different axle widths. It is imperative to be able to move an army quickly and easily between points, should the need arise to defend our borders again. It’s a dangerous world out there, Madam Reeve, and you need to be cautious.” 

“I can handle any danger, Master Reeve. You don’t need to hold my hand, or pat me on the head,” the Lady Prentiss grumbled, hand resting on the pommel of her sword. 

“I do not mean to seem condescending. I am genuinely concerned for your safety. A woman in trousers would shock and alarm certain members of the populace. They might seek to harm you, or at the very least, damage your attire. I beg you, put on a dress. If my protectiveness offends you, I’m sorry. I promise not to hold doors, lay down my cloak over puddles, or treat you in any manner that might be mistaken as chivalrous. But please, will you put on a dress?” Aaron begged. 

“I left in a hurry, Lord Aaron. I did not pack a dress, or any other clothes for that matter. Nor do I have the money to purchase such items.” 

“Very well. Let’s return to my quarters and see if we can remedy the situation.”

“Sir, you mistake me, I’m sure,” the Lady Prentiss frowned. 

“I have a dress you might borrow.” 

“You have a dress?” 

“A cloak and shift too. I might be able to locate a suitable girdle as well.” 

“Why do you have a dress?” the Lady Prentiss asked quietly. 

“Haley,” Aaron sighed. The Lady Prentiss bowed her head. 

“I had heard of her death. You have my sympathies. Forgive me for not expressing my condolences earlier. The Baron warned me before that you were tender on the subject. I did not mention her because I did not mean to tread upon your sorrows.” 

“Thank you. Her absence is painful to me, but I believe she would understand my need to move on. The Baron tells me I’m too grim, too gloomy. That I should seek your company more often, among other things.”

“Why would he recommend that you seek my company?” 

“He said in bold and no uncertain terms that he would be quite happy if we struck an arrangement for matrimony,” the shire reeve replied. 

The Lady Prentiss turned as green as a fish, narrowing her eyes at Lord Aaron. 

“He wants me to marry you?” 

“Because we are often in harmony when we work together,” he chuckled quietly. 

“I shall have to make a concerted effort to be less amiable to you in front of your Baron,” she decided. 

“No, madam. Do not act any differently. That might only excite him further on the topic. If it fits, you may borrow Haley’s dress for our excursion into the village, but I do want it back later,” Aaron said. He could feel Rabbit’s eyes on them, taking in their conversation. 

“Of course, sir. If it will ease your mind, I will borrow the dress. I will treat it with love and care,” the Lady Prentiss answered.


	7. The Village of Quantico

7 -- The Village of Quantico

 

“Madam Reeve, you are inordinately curious about my rabbit,” Lord Aaron remarked to the Lady Prentiss. 

“Define ‘inordinate’,” she retorted. 

They rode side by side, letting their mounts take a slow stroll on the road that led to the village of Quantico. These horses walked this road so often, they knew the way better than the knights. Aaron had the reins to Rabbit’s horse in his own grip. Rabbit was walking out ahead of the three horses, studying the animal tracks in the snowy path and in the large fields and forests to each side of the road. He was studying the beasts of land and air that they spotted along their short journey from the castle to the village. He was fascinated by everything that crossed his path. 

“You’ve done nothing but ask me questions about him since we left Castle Rossengild. I know he is mute, Madam Reeve, because he has not uttered one sound since we made acquaintance. I do not know if the wound in his throat was the direct cause, or if trauma from the attack during which he suffered the wound was the cause. Perhaps the muteness might be the result of a chest cold, or even an evil spell. I do not know. What I do know is that he has not made a sound, and he has a scar across his throat. I can reach my own conclusions based on those facts. I have not pressed him for answers because he cannot respond to my questions.” 

“Does he read or write? He knew the apothecary symbols, so he must at least read those. Don’t you want to know where did he come from? To whom he belonged before? The circumstances under which he came to be where your squire purchased him? Doesn’t it bother you, not knowing?” 

“Why should it bother me? I can deduce for myself what must have happened. He found himself without a master or protector. This must be a recent change. Owing to his compromised state of mind, he could not have survived long on his own. Slavers must have kidnapped him from the streets. That is why Karl found him in the common markets.” 

“What became of his former master? Are you sure he had one?” 

“The former master may have died without providing for the care and upkeep of Rabbit. Dire circumstances indeed.” 

“Lord Aaron, he’s a four-hare rabbit. If he were from Quantico or the Occoquan, we would have heard tell of him. He is not from around here. Four-hare rabbits are generally bought and sold for remarkable sums, kept for breeding purposes, presented to new masters with papers vouching for their authenticity. Sometimes they are even presented as dowry gifts or marriage goods between two families.” 

“Whatever has become of his former master or mistress, it is clear Rabbit was left to fend for himself and did poorly,” Aaron remarked. 

“It is far more likely that Rabbit has run away, either from a cruel master or from a breeding farm. Have you had any reports of missing rabbits?” the Lady Prentiss asked. 

“We have had no reports of missing four-hare rabbits. I would venture to assume that Rabbit is not a runaway.”

“Why not?” 

“He does not seem bright enough to survive long on his own. Also, he is covered with bruises and bites in various stages of healing. It doesn’t take a genius to realize he has been poorly treated, either by his former master or by someone at large. Perhaps he was traveling, and was attacked and wounded, and does not know to whom he belongs? I do not know the answers, my lady.” 

“He could have run away from an illegal breeding farm,” she suggested. “Maybe he survived on the streets by selling himself. The slavers saw him, sampled him, and added him to their stock.” 

“Now that I think on it, Rabbit did react in a curious manner earlier this morning when the Lady Guinevere demanded that he should breed with her rabbit Peggy,” Aaron remarked. 

“She demanded what?” the Lady Prentiss gulped. 

“You know how she can be. You’ve had your own dealings with her.” 

“My own dealings? What a polite spin you put on things!”

“She was most unkind to you, and I am sorry for that.”

“Unkind? She accused me of witchery, because your baron gave me a glass of wine at a banquet, and toasted my beauty before his knights and lords.” 

“The baron came to your defense, and the charges were dropped.” 

“Not before I had been chased away from my home by a torch-wielding mob! I had no choice but to flee with nothing but what I could carry. Luckily I have found a new home in the Occoquan. Lord Strauss is not a man who would let himself be wrapped around the finger of a beguiling serpent.”

“How is the Lord Strauss surviving his wife’s death?” 

“I don’t think he’s the least troubled by her absence, but then who would be? She was a grasping, overbearing shrew.” 

“You know you are free to return to Quantico any time you please. Baron Rossen would be only too happy to find a position for you here at home.” 

“I find I like my position with Lord Strauss. I’m not sure of where I stand with Baron Rossen. When we are alone, he speaks of nothing but matrimony. The bliss of the union of souls. Do you think….”

“I think too often, Madam. It is possible that thinking too much is the root of all my unhappiness.”

“I may have misjudged the old goat. Is he mentioning marriage because of you? You said he wants to unite you and I in matrimony.” 

“He does, indeed.” 

“I shall have to apologize to your baron when I see him again. I thought he was suggesting that I marry him. Although his attentions are flattering, in a fatherly way, no woman in her right mind would marry him, not after the way his last wife died, writhing in pain, bleeding from the mouth and nose, puking up her own entrails.” 

Lord Aaron sighed sadly at the memory. “The Lady Patricia did indeed die in a horrible way. May the gods keep and rest her soul.” 

“I can’t believe neither you nor your baron are disturbed by the number of people who wind up dead after they cross the Lady Guinevere.” 

“The Lady Guinevere and the Lady Patricia were dearest of friends,” Aaron protested, though he knew differently. What pretense they kept up at court was more than transparent behind the scenes to anyone with half a brain. The two women had despised each other. 

“If you truly believe that, you are the world’s biggest fool. Your Lady Guinevere is a jealous harpy in desperate need of…. well, as a lady, I shouldn’t say. But as you are well aware, there is no love loss between the two of us. Because you have continually rejected her advances, she has now taken a dislike to you. If she’s taken a liking to your rabbit, and you had the nerve to refuse her request to breed him…” 

“She tried to buy him as well,” Aaron snorted. 

“Master Reeve, you had better watch out for that shrew. If I were you, I’d flee in the dark of the night while you still can breathe.” 

“The Lady Guinevere does not frighten me. Let her come, if she thinks she’s able to take me on,” Aaron warned. 

“Do you think it’s possible that your rabbit could have come from Grosbeak’s holdings? He might be one of the marked-up rabbits that John the Nose has been pushing, given the likelihood of a four-hare rabbit showing up here, without papers and without a past?” 

Aaron blinked at Prentiss in surprise.

“John the Nose?” 

“That’s what he’s known as among the common folk.”

“The common folk?” Aaron smiled faintly. 

“I realize that you are rather out of touch with those who don’t have a title before their name, Lord Aaron, but yes, the common folk.”

“I didn’t always have a title before my name,” Aaron reminded her tartly. 

“But you do now,” she reminded him. “That title keeps you at a distance from those who struggle to put food on the table and a roof over their heads.” 

“You have a title. Do you not feel it keeps you at a distance?” 

“No, because I work for a living.”

“Do I not work for a living?” Aaron challenged, smiling, not offended. 

“You were born and bred to be a shire reeve. The job suits you very well. My point is that your rabbit might be connected to my case, and that is why I am curious about him.” 

“Karl bought Rabbit in the common markets. He is not from Grosbeak’s stock, certainly not for the price that Karl would have been able to pay from my personal finances,” Lord Aaron dismissed with a frown. The Lady Prentiss grew more curt with the shire reeve. 

“Have you taken Rabbit to an apothecary or even a mage to have him tested? You should at least have him tested.”

“There hasn’t been time to do all that. I have only had him since yesterday.”

“I suggest while we are in the village that we take a side trip to the marshes, and that you consult Frogga. Ask her to verify your rabbit’s authenticity.” 

“Oh, honestly, no,” Aaron grumbled. “Rabbit is authentic. Trust me.” 

“How would you know? What makes you so sure?” 

“I have tasted him. His blood antidote is quite powerful. I don’t need that demented old swamp witch to tell me what I can discern for myself.” 

“Why are you reluctant to take him to Frogga? You don’t trust a female mage?” 

“Frogga Ironeye makes my flesh crawl. There is the unvarnished truth, madam. I will admit to it freely. I have been terrified of her since I was a squire in short pants, running behind Lord David, holding his horse reins for him.”

The Lady Prentiss laughed out loudly at Lord Aaron’s admission, and a smile crept onto his face in response to the sound.

“It has nothing to do with her being a female mage,” he added. 

“She is a trifle strange,” the Lady Prentiss conceded. 

“If I find her unsettling, she’s liable to scare the living daylights out of Rabbit. He’s a timid soul.” 

“She could tell you with one look if your rabbit is true.” 

“I don’t need Frogga Ironeye to tell me what I already know. Rabbit’s blood antidote is very powerful. It took but a few drops to make my aches and pains disappear, though it had been several days since my last dose. If he were but a marked-up one or two-hare rabbit, I would have felt no benefits. Haley was a three-hare rabbit. As is Lord William’s rabbit, whom he was kind enough to share when I was in need. I know a three-hare when I taste one, and I could tell that Rabbit’s blood antidote was stronger yet than that of a three-hare.” 

“Take your new friend to Frogga, and she will set your mind at ease.” 

“My mind is at ease. Your mind is the one all aflutter,” the shire reeve grumbled sourly. “Rabbit!” he called out. 

“Would you please give him another name besides that?” the Lady Prentiss mourned. “It’s so terribly sad. I feel bad for him. If you must keep another human being in bondage to serve your personal needs, can you not at least treat him with a modicum of humanity and tenderness?” 

“Rabbit?” Aaron called out again. “Oh, because treating him with kindness makes up for the grievous sin of keeping him in bondage? You frown upon my needs. Easy to be so moral from a high standpoint.” 

“I’m not casting judgment.” 

“Are you not?” 

“I won’t lie to you, Master Reeve. I find the entire practice of slavery abhorrent. It curls my insides with distaste and shame. Your life depends on Rabbit’s willingness to surrender himself to you. But why should your life and your health and your comfort take precedence over Rabbit’s freedom and free will?”

“In the best of worlds, we could cure this plague once and for all. Then no one would need to keep rabbits.” 

“Clearly we don’t live in the best of all worlds, Master Reeve.” 

“Rabbit?!” Aaron called out again. 

The young man stopped staring at the deer disappearing into the forest, and turned his attention back to his new master. Aaron motioned for him to return, and patted the saddle on the extra horse. 

Rabbit crunched through the snowy, icy mud. It took him more than one try to climb back into the saddle of his horse, owing to the fact there were no stirrups. He wasn’t the most nimble creature. Lord Aaron helped him settle in once more, finding his inadequacy as a horseman all the more adorable. Aaron spoke to Rabbit in a slow, gentle tone as he leaned close. 

“While we are in the village, you stay close to me. There are people who might do you harm. If they know you are in my company, and they will leave you be. Do you understand?” 

Rabbit nodded, widening his gaze and giving Aaron an innocent face. For a second or two, Aaron fell into those wide amber eyes again, unable to fight the urge to protect and to caress and to comfort Rabbit. And then, his gut instincts kicked in, and he wondered somewhere in the back of his mind if he wasn’t being played. 

“Put your hands here and here,” Aaron instructed. Rabbit let Aaron lift his hands into place, and lace the reins into his grip. It was easy to tell that Rabbit hadn’t been on horseback very often, if ever. He shifted uncomfortably, and rubbed his aching thighs. “Let Maggie lead. She knows the path.”

Rabbit did as he was commanded, looking back to the shire reeve for reassurance every few seconds, giving him another innocent smile. Lord Aaron was only too happy to nod approvingly, and pat him on the back. The Lady Prentiss studied their exchange. When she began to chuckle, Lord Aaron directed his attention back to her. 

“What?” 

“You could always tether him to your waist, Mother,” the Lady Prentiss teased. She clicked her tongue to her teeth and sauntered into the lead. Aaron wondered if it was his imagination, or if even her horse had looked smugly amused. 

“Maybe it would be better if he were to wait for me at the Three Red Roses. I know the barkeep there well,” Aaron pondered aloud. 

Rabbit’s wandering gaze went left as a hawk darted overhead in pursuit of a small sparrow. If he had been down off his mount, he would have been chasing the hawk and sparrow into the woods. There was something so vulnerable about him suddenly, that Aaron couldn’t bear the idea of being separated from him. Aaron knew he would worry constantly about Rabbit if he were not by his side. There was no reasonable explanation for these feelings, and Aaron had no choice but to chalk them up to the emotional and psychological effects of bonding with his new rabbit. It wasn’t uncommon to feel actual physical pain when separated from a rabbit, but that usually didn’t happen until a master and rabbit had been together for years, over a lifetime. Why had their bond been so instantaneous and binding?

“Never mind. Better to keep you close,” Aaron whispered as he reached over and patted Rabbit on the shoulder. 

Rabbit must have thought he was being chided. He lowered his head, rounded his shoulders, and stared at the village with much trepidation. Aaron rubbed the back of his waist when Rabbit gave him a nervous glance.

“Don’t worry. I’m not taking you back. We are not going anywhere near the common markets. I’m going to talk to witnesses about my case.”

“Our case,” the Lady Prentiss corrected.

“Our case. You are not in trouble,” Aaron promised Rabbit before concentrating on the Lady Prentiss once more. 

The under-shire reeve was leading them into the village, through the trampled, sodden streets, towards the Misty Morn Tavern. The path from the castle to the village led from the hill, through fields with forests to the sides, then down into a long, flat stretch of land that abutted the water itself. 

The village thrived on the sea travel and land trade with other villages up and down the coast. As they headed down the road into the village, the masts of sailing vessels rose into view beyond the tops of the two and three story buildings. The unmistakable smell of the water was also evident. The tallest ships were anchored further out, sending smaller vessels into the port itself. Although, there were shallow vessels which were able to navigate directly to the docks which reached out into the water. They three were headed towards a tavern which had been built on one of those broad docks. Smaller vessels and personal craft dotted the smaller piers which jutted out into the water. 

On the masts of the sailing vessels, sailors scrambled up and down the rigging like so many busy spiders, pulling the canvas sails up and tying them into place. Officers stood on deck shouting orders, their voices carrying over the lapping of the waves. Other members of the crew were busy loading and unloading crates and barrels, or corralling groups of human cargo as well. Aaron watched Rabbit’s face fall sad and then neutral. Had that been Rabbit’s fate a mere day ago? Had he arrived in Quantico by ship? Aaron reached over and rubbed Rabbit’s back reassuringly. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not selling you back. I need you, and I’m….I’m attached to you. We’re working on our case,” he murmured. Rabbit did not look any less concerned. 

The village of Quantico was composed of straight streets, leading east to west along the coast, or north to south from the castle towards the harbor. There were gated sally-forths and winding alleys which intersected the streets and courtyards of the buildings, adding some variety to the neat grid of straight streets. It was a bit like the populace itself – those on the straight and narrow, and those on the winding paths. Lord Aaron pondered these thoughts as they followed the Lady Prentiss towards the water, to the door of the Misty Morn Tavern.

The Lady Rosalind’s maid was not hard to find. Caroline was seated by the fireplace, a long clay pipe with a small bowl in her dainty mouth. Her thin face was glazed with melancholy. Aaron took one sniff of the air around her, and knew the young lady was terribly drunk at barely eleven in the morning. Things were obviously not well with her. 

“Caroline? It’s me. Emily? Do you remember from yesterday?” the Lady Prentiss asked, approaching the young woman and tentatively pulling up a seat by the fire as well. The maid pulled the pipe from her teeth, and nodded quietly. 

“Yes, mum. I remember. What happened to your trousers? They was very becoming on you.”

“I was advised I should change, for my own safety. This is Aaron. He’d like to talk to you about your mistress.” 

Lord Aaron nodded to Caroline, and ducked to avoid striking his head on a low hanging beam. Caroline gave him a trembling frown. 

“What more is there to say, Mistress Emily? My life is over. No employment. No home. No friends. I might as well give myself up to the reeds.” 

“I thought you were going to stay with your friend Iris?” 

“Her mistress forbade me to stay there. No place for me, says she. The Lady Florence does not want the whiff of scandal about her house.”

“Caroline, if you can help me, if you can help us, I’ll find you a place when this is all said and done,” Aaron promised. 

“Who are you that you can promise a girl such things?” Caroline wondered skeptically. 

“I am Baron Rossen’s shire reeve. Lord Aaron of Hotchner.”

“Your baron is the one who banished my lady from court for no good reason. You was abroad at the time. I don’t know if you’re familiar with what happened.”

“I am familiar. The Lady Rosalind was unwed, and took a male rabbit as her lover. The lords of the court deemed her unfit for polite company, and she was banished.” 

“They weren’t lovers, you fools,” Caroline whispered drunkenly. 

“But yesterday you intimated that they were,” the Lady Prentiss whispered back. 

“Oh, mum. I know what I said yesterday. My mistress begged me to keep her secrets, but now that she’s dead, it doesn’t matter what secrets I keep any more, does it, mum?”

“You weren’t keeping secrets yesterday. You all but told me they were lovers.” 

“They were not at all, Mistress Emily. I am sorry if I gave you that impression. My mistress, she had a kind heart. She’d give you the cloak off her own shoulders rather than see you go cold. It was that kind heart that was her undoing.” 

“If they weren’t lovers….” Aaron asked.

“They were family. That was the secret that my lady begged me to keep.”

“What?” the Lady Prentiss blushed. 

“My mistress said it was better that folks should believe she had been indecent than for them to know the truth. Sorry I lied to you yesterday, Miss Emily. Truly. It weren’t right to do so. I thought it best to let you believe what you already believed.” 

“What is the truth then?” Aaron pressed, watching Caroline take a long drink from her tankard, and then thump the empty mug back down. 

“The Lady Rosalind’s father made his money by shipping cargo and not asking a lot of questions. That made him right popular. He died a wealthy man. He was given to his own brand of charity for those in need, which is to say, when he wasn’t frequenting orphanages in search of new mistresses, he would frequent hired rabbits, and lavish them with money and gifts. It would please him to no end if they bore him a babe or two. He was right fond of bar maids too. Villages and farms up and down this coast are littered with Lord Martin’s bastards.” 

“The Lady Rosalind and Miles, her rabbit, are, were half siblings?” Aaron stuttered with amazement.

“Will Miles confirm that?” the Lady Prentiss asked. 

“No, Miss Emily. I doubt he will.”

“Why not?” 

“He didn’t know none the better. The Lady Caroline knew, but she never told Miles. I begged her to tell him. I knew the lad was misunderstanding her kindness. He thought she was sweet for him. That’s why he confessed before the court that they were lovers. He believed that they were, that they were all but.” 

“Did they ever sleep together?” Aaron frowned. 

“Master Reeve, they never shared a bed so long as they knew each other. I can vouch for that. I was at my lady’s side night and day, never more than a step away. She was eighteen and unwedded and unbedded, sir. The Lady Rosalind lived and died a virgin. She never had knowledge of man, not in that sense.” 

“The Lady Guinevere swore she saw the Lady Rosalind and Miles holding hands, leaning together in close company, walking with their arms around each other,” Aaron muttered. “She swore she walked in on them in a state of undress in Master Tailor’s quarters.” 

“The Lady Guinevere said…. The Lady Guinevere swore….” The maid laughed sourly to herself. “She could swear the sun rises in the West, and you fools would look at that fair face and believe every word that falls from her mouth.” 

“She swore under oath that she had walked in on the Lady Rosalind and her rabbit Miles naked together,” Aaron muttered. 

“The Lady Rosalind was buying Miles a new outfit of clothes, and shopping for a new dress herself. Of course they were both in states of undress. I was there too, Master Reeve, and I know what that tiny harpy walked in on. They weren’t anywhere close to naked.”

“She swore under oath,” Aaron repeated. 

“That one has no room to be casting aspersions about, does she? I’ve heard enough tales around court about how her family had their throats sliced in the middle of a dark night, and she herself was the sole survivor. Claimed she hid away in the castle pantries and made that’s how she made it out alive. I heard tell too, how she weren’t all that devastated by the loss of her mum and dad and sister. She fairly tripped over her shoes, dancing all the way here to come throw herself on the Baron’s mercy here at Rossengild. She’s transparent, she is. She’s hoping to set herself up as Mistress of Castle Rossengild. That’s what that one’s after.”

“Common gossip,” Aaron accused softly and without force. 

“She offed the Lady Patricia, because she hoped the Baron would take her on as his fourth wife. The Baron wouldn’t marry her, owing to their family ties. So he has given her two husbands since she got here, and they both have died too, haven’t they? Truth of it is, there’s lots of people who wind up dead around her, isn’t there?” Caroline accused. 

The Lady Prentiss gave Lord Aaron a significant glance before turning her attention back to Caroline. 

“The way I see it, the Lady Guinevere knew right well that the Baron held a fondness for the Lady Rosalind. Spoke of her often as the daughter he had never had. The Lady Guinevere is as jealous as they come, and that’s the reason there is no Lady Rosalind in court any more. So, Master Reeve, you need to ask yourself. If the Baron won’t marry the Lady Guinevere, and the Lady Guinevere lusts for his castle and his money, how long do think your dear baron is going to survive, holding that serpent to his breast as he does? Protecting her from the harm she does to others? Protecting her from those who would do her harm?”

“We are not here to debate the guilt or innocence of the Lady Guinevere. If you knew your mistress was innocent, why didn’t you defend the Lady Rosalind when she was on trial before the baron and his lords and his knights? Did you let them banish an innocent woman for fear of speaking in her defense?” Aaron demanded. 

“Who would listen to me, my lord? A maid and a common woman. No one was going to listen to me, Master Reeve, not over the likes of the Lady Guinevere. I begged the gentlemen of the court to let me speak for the Lady Rosalind, and they refused. They never questioned me, assumed I would be faithful to my lady no matter the truth. The truth,” Caroline snorted with a foul-smelling gulp. “The truth is, Master Reeve, I would have said whatever my lady commanded, and that would have only added evidence to their case against her. It was my lady’s wish that people not know her father had spread himself about the way he did. It would be a blemish on the memory of her dear dead mother. The Lady Rosalind loved her mother so dearly, and would never dream of offending her ghost. If the Lady Rosalind asked me to tell a falsehood to save her mother’s reputation, then I would have done so. As I said, the Lady Rosalind would rather that people believe she had been indecent than to let them know the sorrowful truth of it all.” 

Caroline looked as if she could slide out of her chair and melt away with her sorrow. 

“Is there no one you can turn to, or return to, Caroline?” the Lady Prentiss asked. “No family at all.” 

“No, Miss Emily. I had a brother once. A two-hare he was. He’s gone now. Had a parcel of cousins over in Fallmouth. Long gone now. My sister. My parents. Gone too.”

“What can you tell me about your mistress and her dealings with Grosbeak?” Lord Aaron asked.

“John the Nose,” the Lady Prentiss added when Caroline looked confused. 

“Why don’t I get us some more drinks?” Aaron asked. 

The shire reeve fished some coins out of his pocket and went over to the bar. He was surprised to find Rabbit sitting on one of the rough stools, his eyes focused out the window on the sailing ship that was tethered practically on the other side of the panes. There was a steady creaking sound as the water rocked the large vessel side to side. Rabbit was fairly hypnotized by the motion. His thin shoulders moved in time with the creaking. His eyes were glued to the ship. Legs moved past the window as people were walking to and fro on the boards of the pier between the tavern and the ship, moving about busy with their tasks. Rabbit barely noticed the people at all. 

Aaron reached out and stroked Rabbit’s hair. The young man continued to gaze worshipfully out the window. Aaron set a tankard down for Rabbit, but the young man didn’t notice at all. Seabirds were calling out the window. The barkeep raised the window high, hollering out to a passerby. Smiling faces filled the window pane. A sailor or two climbed in through the make-shift door, leaving footprints on the bar and down onto the floor. The barkeep quickly stroked the footprints away and gathered up drinks for them. Aaron returned to his conversation, dodging the sudden influx of more sailors through the open window. 

“Here we are,” Lord Aaron said as he set down a fresh tankard for Caroline. He presented one to Lady Prentiss as well. Aaron picked up the empty cup and turned back to the bar, where he froze in surprise. The empty tankard crashed out of his hands and rattled on the rough boards below. 

Rabbit’s stool was empty, and the young man was gone.


	8. Roving Fancies

8 -- Roving Fancies

 

“Rabbit! Rabbit!”

The fastest way to gain attention on a busy dock filled with sailors, merchants, trollops, cheats, and swindlers was to run back and forth at full speed, screaming at the top of your lungs. 

“No need to shout, love,” a young woman purred, taking hold of Aaron’s arm when he paused, heart racing, panting hard. His eyes were darting back and forth. His head was head bouncing left, right, down, up, and around. 

“What?” he gasped, finally noticing the pretty redhead.

“I got what you need. Two hares, I am. You can see for yourself.” 

Aaron focused on her as she pulled open the decorative fold at the top of her puffy sleeve, proving indeed that she was a two-hare rabbit. He stared her up and down, from her high-collared cloak and fine dress down to her tiny shoes with decorative roses on the top. He gave her an exasperated growl and detached her fingers from his arm.

“No! I’m looking for a young man!”

“Can’t help you on that front, love. Venture over to the Purple Pansy. They can set you up right. Ask for Fidget. He’s a friend of mine.” 

“No! You don’t understand! I’m looking for a particular man.” 

“Aren’t we all, love?” she grinned toothily.

“Good day, madam. RABBIT!?!?” Aaron shouted frantically again, moving away from the rabbit-for-hire and into the crowds on the docks once more.

While running along, stumbling over his own feet in his anxiousness, Aaron decided several different matters at once. Clearly it might be possible that Rabbit was a runaway, considering the stealthy manner in which he had vanished. Yes, it was also possible that a tether might not be a bad idea for keeping track of him. How hard should it be to find a tall, skinny, long-haired man in the middle of a crowd? Aaron pushed through three sailors and nearly fell over the gang-plank of a ship. He stopped, righted himself, and stared above at the sound of laughter and merriment. 

Rabbit was standing on deck, letting his cloak drop, shimmying out of his boots and socks. He grabbed the rigging, and attempted to follow the sailors who were climbing the ropes like so many spiders up a web. 

“Take off the shirt, you idiot,” one of the sailors called out when Rabbit’s belt buckle got caught, and he nearly plummeted. Rabbit’s shirt and belt hit the deck, and he clasped tight to the rigging with both hands. The man next to him gaped openly at his hare tattoo. The sailors couldn’t decide who to stare at. The four-hare rabbit climbing their rigging, or the angry, official-looking man below with the Baron’s crest on his left breast. Aaron flew up the gang-plank and shouted again. 

“RABBIT! GET DOWN FROM THERE!”

When the shire reeve’s commanding voice rang out, several sailors descended off the rigging and stood at attention on the deck. Rabbit continued to climb, slowly, awkwardly, unsure of his grip but determined to get to the top. 

“Seaman Anders. Get that man down from there.” 

Aaron spared a moment to acknowledge the new presence on the deck at his side. An officer in a blue coat with golden buttons and trim stood off to Aaron’s right, hands crossed behind his back. It was the ship’s captain. Aaron nodded to him, and admired his epaulettes. They both watched the progress as one of the young sailors danced up the rigging, tapped Rabbit’s arm, and pointed back to the deck below. 

The shire reeve’s heart leapt into his throat. When Rabbit focused on Aaron below, his eyes grew huge when he realized the height to which he had climbed, and what a tenuous web he was holding onto. He scrambled sideways, and clutched onto the nearest mast for dear life. The sailor who had been next to him looked down to the captain for advice.

“Captain Todd, at your service,” the man said, extending a hand to Aaron. 

“Lord Aaron of Hotchner, shire reeve to Baron Rossen,” Aaron answered, shaking the captain’s hand. 

The ship’s crew was gathering below. They bellowed with laughter, pointing and snorting. The captain motioned for the sailor aloft to get over to the mast and get Rabbit down. Seaman Anders scrambled over. He attempted to pry Rabbit off the mast, but without success. 

“I’ll get him,” Aaron offered, beginning to peel off his own jacket. How many years had it been since he had been up the rigging of a three-master? 

“The hell you will,” the captain barked. The shire reeve pulled his jacket back on at the command. “Mr. Blakeney! Get your men up there, and wrap the stupid bastard in a safety harness. Lower him down to the decks that way. Get him off my ship’s rigging before he tears it.” 

“Aye, captain. On the double.”

A group of five more men raced up the rigging and the mast, doing their best to corral Rabbit and wrap him in a harness in order to lower him safely to the deck. The captain of the ship touched Aaron on the arm, and motioned him to come up to the quarter deck. 

“Have you official business on my ship, Master Reeve, or are you only chasing your bunny-boy?” the captain asked. 

“Bunny-boy,” Aaron echoed, gulping air, leaning against the railing. “I apologize, Captain. If there’s any damages….” 

“None so far, Master Reeve,” the captain commented. The sailors were having a hell of a time getting Rabbit to let go of the mast, but between the flurry of experienced arms, much whooping and hollering, and a little begging, Rabbit found himself wrapped safely around whether he cooperated or not. One of the sailors wrapped himself around Rabbit for the trip down, in an effort to keep Rabbit’s long arms and legs from flailing about too much. 

“I am truly sorry for the inconvenience,” Aaron rambled, watching with discomfort as Rabbit buried his face in his arms and balled up, letting the crew swing him back and forth. 

“Master Reeve, if I were lucky enough to own a four-hare rabbit, I don’t think I’d be letting him run around so freely,” the captain commented. 

“No, sir. You’re right. I’ve only had him for a short time. We were at a tavern. I turned to get a drink, and turned back, and he was gone. I never thought he’d run on me.” 

“He’s new then?” 

“Quite new. I got him yesterday.” 

“Bonded with him, have you?”

“Bonded, yes,” Aaron answered. 

“Are you a breeder on the side then? Looking to buy passage?” 

“Why do you ask?” Aaron wondered. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone used a clever distraction to get aboard my vessel, in order to have a personal conversation. I do field requests from time to time.” 

“Requests for what?” 

“Safe passage for certain types of cargo.” 

“Human cargo, you mean?” 

“Indeed, Master Reeve.” 

“Illegal human cargo?”

“It might be, Master Reeve. I don’t ask. But if that’s your intention, I’m willing to do discrete business with you.” 

“Have you any illegal human cargo on board, captain?” 

“Not at this time. I had a man earlier who booked passage for himself and three fine rabbits. They’ve since gone though. They went ashore right quick. One of the little girls got her hem wet. She wasn’t all that keen on travel by water, which I found quite odd for a lass from this region.”

“Why tell me this?” Aaron wondered as the crew dragged Rabbit across the planks. They deposited him, his clothes, and his boots on the steps which led to the quarter deck. Rabbit sat in a tiny bundle, huddled in his net of safety ropes. 

“The man put me ill at ease. There was something queer about him. Right chilly personality. He claimed the girls were his daughters, and that they were from the Occoquan, but they bore no resemblance to him or to each other. They did not speak, but hung back. They were nervous about the ship, and about traveling by water. He wore a whip at his belt, and he had a gigantic nose. Truly horrible to behold. Your rabbit, Master Reeve? I assume there’s a finder’s fee?”

“Indeed there is,” Aaron said, giving Rabbit a dark, foreboding glance before he dug in his cloak and pulled out his coin purse. “What’s the going rate, captain?” 

“Enough for a round for my men at the Misty Morn?” the captain bargained.

“A fair price, Captain Todd. Thank you for your help. If this man who put you ill at ease should return to you, and should ask to book passage again, you could send word to me?” Aaron requested. 

“I will send Seaman Anders. The blond one over there. My sister’s youngest. Not the brightest lad, but he is obedient, which is more than can be said of that one there, hmm?”

“Aye, it is. Thank you, Captain,” Aaron replied, giving Rabbit another dark stare. He put a large handful of coins in the captain’s grip, and bowed to him. The captain bowed back. The shire reeve walked over to the steps and stared down at Rabbit. The crew scattered like rats when Lord Aaron shouted at the top of his lungs. “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!”

Rabbit shrank down even further, not daring to lift his head. Like Karl, he was anticipating being hit. He had rope burns and scratches all over his bare chest and up his neck as well. Aaron ached to reach out and soothe each new wound, but did not. 

“Put your clothes on. We’ve got business to conduct. Come on then,” Aaron growled, lowering his voice. He sat down abruptly on the steps, nodding his thanks again to the captain as the man in blue walked past, distributing coins among the crew members who had managed to pull Rabbit safely down. 

Rabbit crawled slowly into his shirt, pulled on his socks and boots, all the while sniveling quietly. He kept his head tucked down, trying to hide his tears. Aaron sighed, reached out, and patted him on the head. Rabbit ducked the first touch, but seemed to move towards the second and third pats. 

“You could have died,” Aaron whispered softly. Rabbit sniveled again. “Would you please stick close to me?”

Rabbit nodded, bowing low. 

“You need to stop chasing shiny objects and roving fancies, eh? Let me help,” Aaron pleaded, pulling Rabbit to his feet and unwinding the ropes around his waist and chest. He drew up the broad, leather belt, and pulled it around Rabbit’s thin hips. “There. All better. Roving fancies, that’s what my mother called them. When some strange urge seizes you, and you don’t see the danger, and you charge ahead. She used to say I was bitten on the ass by a roving fancy at least once a day.”

Rabbit leaned forward, sniveling a wet and dripping apology against Aaron’s shoulder and chest.

“Pull yourself together, man,” Aaron consoled, putting both arms around him. Out of reflex, he kissed the closest rope burn on Rabbit’s neck, moaning involuntarily at the taste of his sweaty, salty skin. Several of the crew members stared at the shire reeve and his rabbit, and then smiled to each other knowingly. Aaron gave them dirty looks, and they shuffled on about their business. Seaman Anders sidled cautiously up to the shire reeve and cleared his throat.

“I came to collect the safety harness, sir,” the lad bowed, pointing to the ropes. Aaron gave them up to him. “Cap’n Todd says you can keep this though,” the lad grinned, handing the shire reeve a long, thin chain with a golden circle on the end. 

“What is this for?” Aaron asked. 

“Keeps rabbits from going astray. You hold that end, and attach the other end to your bunny-boy. Some put the ring through their noses. Others through their earlobes. Others, well, sir, I’m not about to say. More tender spots. You can loop it round his neck if you don’t want to poke holes in him. Or maybe loop it round his waist. He’s skinny. It’s likely to fit.” 

Aaron finally realized the captain had given him a leash. 

“Thank Captain Todd for me,” the shire reeve murmured, his stomach acid churning with embarrassment and self-hatred. 

“Yes, sir,” Seaman Anders bowed, scurrying away. Aaron stared at the golden chain in his hand, and back up at Rabbit. The young man was drying his wet face, too embarrassed to raise his eyes at all. 

“Give me your hand,” Aaron commanded. Rabbit stared in revulsion at the golden chain, but extended his hand as requested. Aaron took Rabbit’s hand into his own, clutching his fingers and holding firmly. “You wander off again, and I’ll spank you,” Aaron warned softly as he slid the leash into his pocket. 

Rabbit sniveled loudly again. Aaron tugged him towards the gang-plank. The Lady Prentiss was waiting at the bottom, hands on her hips, tapping one set of toes most impatiently.


	9. With His Hammer in His Hand

9 -- With His Hammer in His Hand

 

“She was the queen of kindness, Master Reeve. I will never speak ill of the Lady Rosalind.” 

The rabbit Miles slammed a slender length of hot metal down on the anvil before him, and punctuated his annoyance with the shire reeve’s questions, sounding out a powerful blow of hammer to metal with each word he growled between his teeth. His three-hare tattoo glistened on his bulging upper arm. 

“I understand that she was kind to you, and that you owe her a debt which can never be repaid, but…”

“No, sir. You don’t understand at all. You have never been in love the way we were in love. You have never known what it’s like to have the woman you adore ripped away from you.” 

“With respect, young sir, imagine that I can indeed relate to your loss,” Lord Aaron said, his dark voice layered with pain and irritation. 

“Miles, could you put the bloody hammer down, and cooperate with the man?” the Lady Prentiss begged. “Please?” she added when Miles scowled at her. 

“I’ve a job to do. I mean to do it. The new master, he’s been kind to me too. Offered me a roof over my head, three meals day, and a salary to boot. You don’t get that often. I won’t let Smitty down. He bought me because I have experience at the forge and with metalwork. Do you know how unusual it is for a rabbit to be valued first as a craftsman, and then for his blood antidote?”

“How did a rabbit with experience as a smith find himself the companion of a lady of the baron’s court?” Aaron asked. 

Miles shoved the length of metal back into the hot coals, and stared hard at Lord Aaron. 

“I had a master and a mistress before the Lady Rosalind. They bartered me out when I failed to meet their needs, collectively.” 

He waited a moment for the gist of what he was driving at to sink in. Aaron pretended he did not understand. He wanted Miles to spell out what he meant.

“Speak plainly,” the shire reeve demanded. 

“They sold me because I wasn’t keen on sharing their marriage bed. Forgive my crassness for saying so in front of a lady,” Miles added to the Lady Prentiss. 

“Not at all, sir,” she murmured, giving him a quick nod. “I’m sorry they treated you so terribly.”

“The Lady Rosalind met me by chance at the Misty Morn. She used to own the tavern through her father, before she lost everything. I had been up and down the docks all that day, trying to get myself a position on a sailing ship. They have need of skilled smiths there too. I fancy making cannons and cannon balls wouldn’t differ too much from shoeing horses or forging blades. I could have learned to do it in time, and I’m all too willing to work for my keep.”

“What happened when you first met the lady?” Aaron requested. 

“When she learned I was without a job and without a home, the Lady Rosalind took pity on me. That very night, she gave me a home, food, clothes, and a job.”

“What was your job for the lady?” Aaron asked. 

“Making buttons,” Miles smiled. 

“Buttons?” 

“It sounds foolish, doesn’t it?” Miles chuckled. “But no, indeed, she wanted tiny metal buttons, and that’s what I made for her. Beautiful, tiny buttons for her dresses and gowns.”

“She gave you a task to keep you busy, and paid you handsomely for your services,” Aaron surmised. “She desired your company, it would seem, regardless of your skills.” 

“Master Reeve, she and I, we connected on a level that I’ve never shared with anyone else. From the moment we met, we were friends. It was like we were two halves of one soul. I had always heard that a bond between a master and a rabbit could be strong, but this….it was powerful strong, sir. We both loved the sea, we both knew the value of good metalwork. We were friends, sir, and in our hearts, we were lovers too.” 

“With all due respect, sir, have you ever considered it possible that the Lady Rosalind held you dear in a brotherly fashion?” Aaron suggested. The Lady Prentiss gave him a dark look, but he continued on. “What do you know of your real family?” 

“I was sold outright when my mother learned how valuable I was. The going price for a three-hare rabbit can set a poor woman up well. I bear her no ill will. Might have done the same in her position. I was a commodity to her, not a child.”

“What do you know of your mother?” 

“She that gave birth to me slung ales at a tavern on the docks, and she wasn’t more than a lass herself when I was born. She’s long dead though. I was told my father owned the tavern where she worked, and that he had a fondness for barmaids.”

“Who told you?” 

“She that knows the history of this town better than anyone else.”

“You asked Frogga Ironeye who your parents were?” Aaron shuddered. 

“Aye. Who else would know better? She has a memory that goes back nearly sixty years, and she’s a powerful mage to boot. What she doesn’t know, the gods will tell her, by and by. She has dreams, and trances, and she reads the signs in the stars. She can look at your hand, and tell you about your life. Why would I not trust Frogga Ironeye?” 

“Why indeed?” Aaron sighed, feeling the sudden need to bang his head against a brick wall out of frustration. 

“What can you tell us about the day you and Lady Rosalind went to the markets to find a new rabbit for her?” the Lady Prentiss pressed.

“We never got to the markets proper. We were intercepted, as it were. The Lady Rosalind cried the whole time, to and fro. When she left, kissing my hand, kissing my face, apologizing to the last, she was crying then too,” Miles whispered solemnly. 

“Imagine she was devastated,” Aaron agreed with another grim sigh. 

“I bear her no ill will. Like my mother, she had no choice. She had been stripped of her money, her lands, and her titles by those harpies at court. She wasn’t the Lady Rosalind no more, was she? She wasn’t nothing but a hungry, homeless eighteen year old girl, with two dead parents, no husband, and no family to look after her.”

“When she was exiled, many families offered to open their homes to her,” Aaron chided. He knew this through the baron, of course. Miles made a sour face. 

“There was no shortage of slavering lords, offering to give her a place to stay if she whored herself to them on the sly behind their wives’ backs. I would rather have died than seen that happen. It was me and her maid Caroline by her side, and that was all. It was my idea. I offered myself up because I was the only thing of value the Lady Rosalind had.”

“You went to the common markets, and you bartered for a new rabbit for the Lady Rosalind?” Aaron asked, wanting to get the facts straight. 

“We were on our way to the common markets, but we never got there. Like I told you before, we were intercepted on our way. This man approached us in the streets, pulled us three aside. He said he’d be glad to do the lady a fair bargain. Said he had a fine stock to choose from, and so he did. Master Reeve, I thought I did well for the Lady Rosalind. But I caused her death, and I shall never forgive myself. I did not know that Shannon had been marked up. When we met before, a few years ago in the Occoquan, she had been a two-hare then as well, working the docks like a lot of poor rabbits do. I always knew Shannon as a two-hare, and there had been no complaints before about the quality of her antidote. It never occurred to me that she was marked up. If she was marked up, it wasn’t a recently-done thing. I don’t believe she was marked up.”

“So the Lady Rosalind and John the Nose? You helped them strike a bargain. You stayed with John the Nose, and the Lady Rosalind left with Shannon, and that’s the last you saw of your lady?” Aaron asked. 

“To my eternal shame, yes. My last memory of my fair lady is her walking away, tears streaming down her face, the words ‘I love you’ on her lips. I shall never forgive myself for what I’ve caused,” Miles sniveled, wiping his sweaty, tear-dampened face on one massive forearm before picking up his hammer again.

“Is there anyone who can vouch for your location the last two days?’ the Lady Prentiss asked.

“Smitty can,” Miles motioned to his new master. The blacksmith was walking Rabbit through the horse stalls, letting him pet each of the steeds on the nose, and give each horse chunks of apple. Rabbit was perfectly enthralled with the beasts. “I have been here with him and his family night and day since he purchased me. Not only have I been tending to smithing duties as assigned, his youngest son has the plague, and I serve as the lad’s antidote. He tells me the lad has grown an inch since I arrived, but I think he might be pulling my leg.” 

“What can you tell me about John the Nose?” Aaron asked. 

“Him? Not much to tell really.”

“Was he kind to you?” 

“It wasn’t about being kind. I was a valuable commodity. He didn’t do me no harm. Confirmed I was a three-hare with a pin-prick and a swipe of paper – never seen it done that way before. Always seen it tested in a phial. Asked me what I could do, what my skills were besides. You might ask Smitty about him. They seemed friendly.” 

“That we will,” Aaron agreed. “When you were with John the Nose, what did you see of the rest of his stock? What was your opinion of them?” 

“It wasn’t his full stock. It couldn’t have been. He must have the rest stashed around somewhere. He had a lass or two with him, that’s all.”

“Personal rabbits?” the Lady Prentiss asked.

“No. John the Nose, he’s immune.” 

“Can you describe the girls that were with him?” 

“Young. In their teens. I got the impression he fancies them that way – innocent and impressionable. Perhaps not so innocent. They would come and go from his lodgings at all times, bring him back a few coins a piece each time they returned. I didn’t have to think too awfully long on what those wee girls might be doing while they were out. None of my business, Master Reeve. I was in and out of John the Nose’s possession in a matter of hours, which suited me fine. He set me ill at ease.” 

“How do you mean?” Aaron wondered. 

“Something cold about the man.”

“In what way?” 

“He was unfeeling and odd. He’s got cold eyes.”

“No sympathy for you or your lady?” 

“True. But that wasn’t what bothered me. He takes in the world without much reaction, good or ill. Stayed apart from others at the inn, though he was sitting at the same table. Listened to the conversations rather than partaking. He studied people, watched them come and go like they weren’t people at all. Like we were all animals, and he was the only master of the house. It was unnerving.”

“Thank you kindly for your help. You have my sympathies for your loss,” Aaron bowed slightly to Miles, and then extended a hand to him. Miles put down his hammer once more, and shook the shire reeve’s hand. The Lady Prentiss stuck out a hand as well, and Miles took it, bent down, and kissed it lightly. Aaron smirked at the Lady Prentiss, and she frowned faintly at Miles. 

“Rabbit? Are you ready? Thank you, Smitty, for keeping him here. He has a tendency to wander,” Lord Aaron spoke to the blacksmith as the rhythmic pounding of Miles getting back to his task filled the air inside the stables. 

“You’re welcome, Master Reeve. A four-hare? Genuinely! If you ever have any interest in selling him…” 

“None, sir,” Aaron shook his head. Rabbit gave him a tentative, scared look. 

“Anything I can do for the law, you know where you can find me,” the blacksmith insisted. 

“If you see John the Nose around, you could let him know that the shire reeve of Quantico would like a polite word with him. Ask him to come up to Castle Rossengild if he would be so kind. Or I’ll come meet him in a tavern hereabouts.”

“A polite word, sir? Is John the Nose in trouble?” 

“No. He is not in trouble. I want a polite word. That is all.”

“If I see him, I’ll let him know you asked after him,” Smitty agreed.

“Thank you kindly.”

Aaron put a hand on Rabbit’s arm to get his attention. Rabbit kissed the last horse on the ear, gave up his last bit of apple, and followed Lord Aaron and the Lady Prentiss out into the crowded streets of the village of Quantico. 

“Was it wise to show your cards that way?” the Lady Prentiss asked as they strolled away. 

“If they are on good terms, Smitty is bound to tell John the Nose that we were asking after him. Why not ask Smitty to contact John, and speed up the process, as it were? If John the Nose has nothing to hide, he’s going to seek me out to defend his good name, tell me he had nothing to do with the deaths of the Lady Rosalind or any of the others. But if John the Nose knows he’s done wrong, knows that he is responsible for their deaths because he sold them marked up rabbits, he is going to run to the docks and buy himself passage back to the Occoquan this very night, and he’s going to lay low there.”

“What do we do?” 

“I’m going to head back to Castle Rossengild. Wait to see who knocks at my door tonight. If it’s John the Nose, good for him. I’ll invite him to dinner, and we’ll have a fine chat. If it’s Seaman Anders, telling me John the Nose has booked passage back to the Occoquan through Captain Todd, then tomorrow I’m headed to your neck of the woods, aren’t I?” 

“What do you expect me to do in the meantime? Knit you a pair of socks?”

“No, Madam Reeve. I’d like for you to return to the Occoquan tonight if you please. Keep yourself by the docks, and keep your eyes peeled for our man. He has a large nose, and cold eyes. One of us is going to see him tonight, either you or me.” 

“A fine plan,” the Lady Prentiss agreed. “What of the dress?” 

“It suits you well. If it pleases you, you may keep it.” 

“You’ve hardly glanced at me while I’ve been wearing it.” 

“I did not wish to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s a different look on you. I like what you’ve done with your hair.” 

“Master Reeve, was that a compliment?” 

“It was, madam. Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“I’m off to buy myself passage to the Occoquan. I don’t suppose you could lend me a few coins?”

Aaron sighed, dug in his pockets, and handed her what he had there.

“I’ll be rowing the boat myself for that price,” the Lady Prentiss cackled softly. She pocketed the money nonetheless. “What you said to Miles? That was kind, actually.”

“I wanted to ease him into the thought that the Lady Rosalind might have loved him in a sisterly fashion, because by and by, he’s going to learn she was his sister, and I don’t want it to be a dreadful shock to him.” 

“No. When you gave him your condolences. That was kind. All things considered. It was right kind of you to offer him sympathies.” 

“You don’t approve of telling him he’s in love with his sister?” 

“No. I don’t believe knowing the truth of that would do Miles any good.”

“Madam Reeve, whether it does us good or not, we need to hear the truth, plain and simple.” 

“All right. Would you like to hear some truth, Master Reeve?” 

“Most assuredly.”

“It sets my teeth on edge, the progress you’re making on my case. You’re not doing anything more on this case than I haven’t done before. People listen to you, and they obey you, because you’re a man. They dismiss out of hand because I’m a woman. It irritates the hell out of me that you made me put on this dress, and follow in your wake like a rowboat behind the three-master. When people see you treat me as your inferior, they treat me as their inferior too.”

“That’s a very fine bit of truth, and I appreciate you sharing with me, but you’ve misunderstood my intentions. I asked you to put on that dress because I didn’t want to spend today having everyone we talked to distracted by your trousers. Pelting us with tomatoes. Hurling insults or rocks either one. I personally don’t care if you wear a dress, if you wear trousers, if you wear a bedsheet, or if you run around stark naked. But if you want my help to solve our case, and you know good and well you need my help, then we need to work together.” 

“And by working together, you mean you want me to be still, and be quiet, and wear a dress, and be the little lady. Fetch your slippers. Knit your socks.” 

“No, Madam Reeve. But if we’re questioning someone who might talk more freely to a man than to a woman, like Miles, you should have the good sense to make yourself scarce, and let me talk to him.” 

“Oh, like you made yourself so very helpful when it came to questioning Caroline the maid? She and I had rapport yesterday when I was working on my own, and wearing trousers. You show up today, and suddenly she’s telling a whole different tale. Why didn’t she tell me all of this yesterday?” 

“That depends. How drunk was she yesterday?” 

“Not in the least.”

“There are those who talk more freely when they’ve had a few. Besides that, I’m more intimidating than you are. That’s why people tell me the truth.” 

“You, Master Reeve, are really quite full of yourself,” the Lady Prentiss laughed loudly. “I’m headed for the Occoquan. You can knit your own damn socks. Or maybe you can teach your new friend. Might be he’s good with needles.” 

“Good day, Madam Reeve. Safe travels,” Lord Aaron replied. 

They parted ways at the next block. Aaron and Rabbit continued on to the stables where they had housed their horses. It was time to head back home.


	10. The Lady Eleanor

10 -- The Lady Eleanor

 

“That is Master Bottler, the court apothecary,” Lord Aaron explained as they rode under the raised portcullis, up the hill, and into the castle grounds. Aaron lifted a hand in greeting, and the man trundling up the road ahead of them with a push cart slowed down. He rested his cart on the ground, and waved back to the shire reeve. 

“Master Reeve.” 

“Master Bottler.”

“Did your squire find you, sir?”

“I did not know he was looking for me. I’ve been in the village on business for a few hours. Where did you last see him?” 

“He was with Baron Rossen earlier, walking in the courtyard for a breath of fresh air. Tis a brisk night,” the apothecary pointed upward, where the pennants whipped about in the cold winds that had chased down from the west. Rabbit huddled tighter under his cloak, though his attention had been captured by the different bundles of dried herbs and plants that were tucked into the apothecary’s wooden hand cart. It’s fair to say that his eyes glittered first with surprise, and then with greed and hunger. 

“I will seek him out,” Lord Aaron replied, wondering why Rabbit was so focused on the apothecary’s cart. One of Rabbit’s hands went into the cart while the apothecary was distracted. He came back with a leaf off one of the plants, secreting it into his hand. He turned his back for a second, and when he turned around again, he was chewing furtively. Aaron tugged him out of arm’s reach from the cart and its contents, and hoped that Master Bottler didn’t notice. 

“This is your four-hare, is he?” Bottler wondered, shrewd eyes studying Rabbit most intently. Rabbit stopped chewing, biting his lip anxiously. 

“Yes,” Aaron murmured, scolding his rabbit with a narrowed gaze. 

“You’ve had him tested, of course, to confirm?” 

“Not yet.” 

“I’d be happy to confirm his authenticity for you. Bring him to my workshop after you’ve spoken with your squire.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I do not wish to be a bother.”

“I insist. It will be my pleasure,” Bottler smiled. There didn’t seem to be a polite way to refuse. 

Lord Aaron was annoyed to realize that in the time he and Rabbit had been down in the village, someone had obviously set tongues a-wagging among the castle inhabitants concerning the shire reeve and his supposed-four-hare rabbit. Most likely it had been the Lady Guinevere and her harpies. Perhaps the best way to combat any sort of wild rumors was to allow the court apothecary to do his job. After all, Master Bottler was responsible for testing any babies presented to the Baron. Why not let him confirm Rabbit’s potency, and be done with it? What harm could it do? It was better than taking Rabbit to Frogga. 

“In that case, I will happily take you up on your kind offer. We will meet you in your workshop,” Aaron promised. 

Bottler lifted the handrails of his cart, and started to trundle along again, whistling happily to himself. Rabbit watched the court apothecary the entire way up the winding hill towards one of the many castle entrances. Aaron spent the entire walk glancing back at Rabbit, wondering which leaf he had plucked from the cart and why. Was he that hungry??

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long to have you tested,” Aaron said finally as they left their horses with the stable hands, and trudged into the castle. Rabbit gave Aaron a sideways glance filled with some amusement and a fair bit of dread. As they entered the castle, a group of armor-clad knights headed past the two of them. All thirteen set their eyes on Rabbit with hunger and blood-lust on their faces. Clearly they had also heard that he was a four-hare rabbit.

“Good Evening,” Lord Aaron murmured. The leader of the group diverted his attention to the shire reeve, and put on a smile. 

“Master Reeve,” he intoned. 

“Night watch?” Lord Aaron asked.

“Aye, my lord.” 

“Carry on then,” Aaron commanded deeply. 

“Aye, my lord,” the guards chorused. 

Aaron turned back to Rabbit, only to find the young man was practically glued to his back. 

“A change of clothes? A bite to eat?” Lord Aaron suggested. 

Rabbit’s shrewd and frightened eyes followed the guards until they were well away. He reached out and took hold of Aaron’s sleeve, hanging on with long, biting fingers and a trembling hand. Aaron reached down and tentatively stroked the shaking hand clinging to his arm.

“I apologize if they alarmed you. But you must be used to that by now – the way that plague people react around a rabbit with powerful blood antidote?” Aaron commented. 

Rabbit nodded sadly. 

When they arrived back at Aaron’s apartments, the door was ajar. There were shadows drifting back and forth, quiet laughter, and soft voices. Aaron put his key away, pulled Rabbit behind himself, and slid his dagger from his sheath. He slowly pushed the door in. 

Baron Rossen spun around in surprise, and dropped the bundle of clothes he was carrying. There was a tiny shriek of surprise from the tall blonde woman with the baron. Aaron sighed with relief, and put his dagger away. 

“My lord Baron, Ashleigh, my apologies,” the shire reeve babble, bowing and then bending down to pick up the clothes that his master had dropped. 

It was when he was standing back up that Aaron noted the drastic changes in his living quarters, starting with the fact that someone had turned his work table around and moved a second bed into the vast room. The windows had been pulled open. The light-blocking, dark curtains had been changed out for something airy, bright, and diaphanous, more suited to spring or summer. It was freezing cold, sweet-smelling, and very bright suddenly. 

“I’m so sorry that we startled you. I had hoped your squire Karl would waylay you long enough that we would be able to finish,” the baron apologized. 

“Finish….?” Aaron breathed. The baron’s companion, his rabbit Ashleigh, smiled at Aaron and tried to look inconspicuous while holding his old bedcovers bundled in her arms. Aaron glanced back over at his bed, and steeled himself against a gasp of horror. Brightly-colored mounds of feathered comfort waited him. 

“Ashleigh and I were talking about how we could brighten up your moods, and she suggested that giving you a more pleasant environment in which to lay your head might help. We have made a few changes in this gloomy dungeon of yours. A bit of color. A bit of creature comfort. Don’t worry. I did not disturb your trunk,” the baron cocked a smile. 

“You shouldn’t have, really too kind of you,” Aaron stammered.

“You are most welcome, Lord Aaron,” Ashleigh answered with a curtsey. 

“You can’t very well be expected to share a bed with a male rabbit, and so we brought a second bed,” the baron continued. “Would you like a larger apartment, one in the family wing? There are several empty ones that would suit your needs. I should like to settle you there.”

“I like the placement of these apartments, my lord. It’s the tallest tower in the castle. From my windows, I can see who is coming into the castle, who is travelling along the village road, and who is traveling beyond the castle into the forests. From the top of this tower, I can see clear into Mary’s Land. I’m really quite fond of these apartments. They are more than large enough for me and Rabbit besides,” Aaron insisted with a humble bow. “But thank you for your kindness, my lord, and for the second bed.”

“When Dorry reported that she found the both of you sleeping on the floor in front of the fire, I decided something must be done,” the baron chuckled. 

“Surely you did not move this furniture yourself,” Lord Aaron gasped.

“Oh, no. Don’t be absurd. I corralled some courtiers and attendants,” Baron Rossen barked. “Ashleigh and I will leave you to it. You and your rabbit have a dinner engagement in an hour. Better hurry and make yourselves presentable.”

“Dinner engagement?” Aaron wondered. 

“I’m expecting you in one hour. Do be prompt,” the baron chided, taking Ashleigh’s arm and bustling from the apartments. They giggled and chatted between themselves as they closed the door tightly. 

Aaron sniffed the air and frowned to himself. His rooms smelled freshly-scrubbed, like cleaning solutions scented with pine and lemon. The stones shone with sunlight. He moved around in a slow circle, unconsciously carrying the clothes that he had picked up for the Baron. The chairs in front of the fireplace had been rearranged, and filled with soft pillows. The windows had been cleaned, and the curtains traded out. His bed, as previously-mentioned, was covered in bright and gaudy, light-blue linens. The second, smaller bed, presumably for Rabbit, was tucked into the corner, and topped with purple linens and a multitude of soft pillows. There were several outfits of clothes laid out on the bed for him. A small trunk was tucked at the end of the bed for Rabbit’s personal things. Rabbit stared around, and cautiously back at Aaron. He wasn’t sure whether he should smile or not. 

“I cannot be cross with him. His heart is in the right place,” Aaron defended without venom. He wandered over to his bed, and tentatively sat on the new covers, which smelled of lemon verbena, lavender, and meadowsweet. Someone had even had the nerve to tuck a sachet between his pillows! He set down the clothes he had been holding, and gave the bed a small bounce. The mattress felt different, as if it had been freshly-stuffed. 

Rabbit sat delicately on the bed intended for him, as if he half expected the mattress to jump up and grab him, like a giant Venus fly trap. He perched on the edge of the mattress and tucked his knees together. He ran a hand over one of the pillows, and darted a cautiously glance at Aaron. A thin, pleased smile trickled sideways on Rabbit’s mouth. He bounced once, and the smile widened. He retrieved the sachet from between his own pillows, and sniffed at it. Aaron picked up his sachet and lobbed it gently in Rabbit’s direction. It landed on his pillows. Rabbit glanced up at his master in puzzlement. 

“Ugh,” Lord Aaron frowned, pounding his pillows to remove the sweet scents. “I see they decided you needed to be better kitted. Gather up the clothes. Try them on for size. We’ll make room in the wardrobe.” 

As Rabbit was lifting one of the new outfits off the coverlet, a metallic thump hit the mattress. He rested the clothes against his shoulder, and stared down in surprise. Aaron was at his side at once. There resting on the mattress was a handsome dagger which bore the Baron Rossen’s crest. 

“A present for you,” Aaron whispered, reaching over Rabbit’s side and picking up the weapons. “He wants to make certain you are well-armed. That means he knows you could be in danger and that you need to learn to protect yourself. It could be this entire exercise was about giving this to you on the sly. Have you any experience with weapons?” 

Rabbit lowered his eyes and tucked his chin to his chest. He shook his head no, but his eyes shifted sneakily left to right. 

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. You will be expected to wear this to dinner, to let the baron know you appreciate his gift. Go choose an outfit to wear, and get ready. Very nice blade,” Aaron rambled. 

Rabbit emerged from the loo within a few minutes, pushing damp hair back, looking pleased and flattered and slightly-embarrassed. Aaron caught his shoulder and turned him around to study the outfit. 

“It suits you well,” Aaron pronounced, heart in his throat, unconsciously licking his lips as he studied Rabbit’s bared throat, healing bruises and all. Something in Aaron’s gaze had alarmed the younger man. Rabbit immediately began to lace his shirt front together. The high collar closed, masking his bare skin. “Grab your boots and belt. Give me five minutes to get dressed. Don’t forget your dagger.”

Rabbit busied himself folding the clothing away in the trunk at the end of his bed, until Lord Aaron returned from freshening up. The young man fell in step behind the shire reeve as Aaron headed straight for the door, checking his dagger, pocketing his key, and pulling on a cloak in quick succession.

Dinner was a less-private affair than Lord Aaron had expected. They entered the crowded banquet room, and the Baron called out to the shire reeve, motioning him to the front of the hollowed U of tables. 

“I have saved seats for you both. Hurry, before Lord Rothmore takes it upon himself to scoot closer, and wheedle me more about grand plans to build paved roads from here to Shenandoah.” 

“Yes, my lord baron,” the shire reeve agreed with a quick nod to the good-natured Lord Rothmore. Rabbit followed in Aaron’s footsteps, aware that all eyes were on them as they ducked and bobbed around outstretched limbs, and far-flung chairs, and the occasional hunting hound. There were no less than three small terriers hiding under the lavender skirts of the Lady Violet. Aaron took Rabbit’s hand and pulled him along when the little terriers emerged to bark wildly at the nervous young man. Aaron took the chair to the baron’s right, and Rabbit hid behind the high back of his chair. 

“Sit, young man, sit,” the baron said, directing Rabbit to the chair to Aaron’s left. Some members of the court tittered and gasped, whispering among themselves. Although Ashleigh did occupy the chair to the baron’s left, every other man or woman, lord or lady’s rabbit stood behind their master’s chair, as Rabbit had been attempting to do. Rabbit sat down very shyly, taking up about a third of the seat of the very large chair. He stared in dread at the platter directly before him – the whole head of a hog with a baked apple perched in its mouth. He reached out and turned the platter around so he didn’t have to look the animal in the face. 

“Lord Rothmore, do begin from the beginning, and hope that my shire reeve can better understand your intentions,” the baron commanded as table servants filled plates for Lord Aaron and Rabbit, and wine servants poured their cups to the brims. 

“It’s not that complicated, Uncle,” the Lady Guinevere called out from the left side of the U, where she and her ladies were spread out a chair away from Ashleigh. There was no love loss between the Lady Guinevere and Ashleigh. The baron’s rabbit was a young woman of common blood, not well-born, but she was the baron’s rabbit nonetheless, and therefore due at least an iota of courtesy. Lord Aaron decided that the baron was eminently wise not to have married Ashleigh to this point. Some might have viewed the move as raising her far above her proper station, as when he had made Aaron’s mother a lady of the court and had given her the title of Lady AlyceAnn. To have done the same with Ashleigh would surely have brought down the wrath of the Lady Guinevere and her harpies. 

“Why don’t you explain it to my shire reeve, and we will let him decide?” 

“With your permission, my lord baron, this would be easier to explain if I had a map,” Lord Rothmore said, rising to his feet, wiping his mouth and pointed beard with his napkin, and taking a sip from his cup. “Lord William has suggested that if we were to improve the roads between Quantico and Shenandoah, then we might be better able to improve trade between the two baronies. At the very least, we could reduce the travel time. Baron Munro agreed I should sound Quantico out on its views of the matter.” 

“I would never disagree with what Lord William would suggest. He is a thoughtful and thorough man,” Aaron replied as Lord Rothmore went in the area in the middle of the tables and bid the minstrels to move the chair arrangement. They were gearing up for their dinner performance, and didn’t seem keen on the idea, but they cooperated nonetheless. 

“Lord William and I spoke at length about this matter yesterday evening before he set out for home,” Rothmore continued. He moved a harp player, and commandeered her cushioned seat. “This, my lord baron, is Quantico here.”

“Yes. Well-suited,” the baron remarked between bites. 

Lord Rothmore stationed the other musicians and their chairs around. Rabbit put down his utensils and paid very close attention to the layout. 

“Manassas here, Warrenton, Luray, Culpeper down there. Front Royal, here, your kindness.” 

“Indeed, I am familiar with the map of the Virgin Land, Lord Rothmore,” Baron Rossen teased very kindly. 

“What Lord William suggested was that if we were to improve travel along the already-existing trails which run this course, we could cut the time needed to travel the distance, thus improving commerce between ourselves.” 

“It is a sound plan, my lord baron,” the shire reeve called back. 

“How do you propose then to keep the path clear of highwaymen and robbers, those who would pluck these rich birds of all their grand plumage before they could arrive to their destination?” 

“They could travel with protection, charge a tariff to pay for an escort,” Lord Rothmore suggested. 

“The common green men are bad enough to deal with. But Baron Culpepper would be standing at the edge of his borders with bated breath, horsemen waiting to swoop,” Baron Rossen warned with humor in his eyes. “I can easily picture the glee with which he would be dancing back and forth. He’s been raiding those paths for decades, hiding his men behind different pennants. How do you propose we change his ways at this late date?” 

“We could ask him to join in. We could hire his men as protection. He isn’t very well going to send a raiding party against his own soldiers, is he?” Lord Rothmore suggested. 

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Baron Rossen chuckled. “Lord William is related to Culpepper by marriage, isn’t he?”

“Distantly,” Ashleigh confirmed with a quick nod. 

“He wasn’t asking you, dear,” the Lady Guinevere snickered. Ashleigh blushed and bowed her head. The Baron petted her hand and interjected.

“But I do appreciate your help. Genealogy and family histories are your bailiwick, and your input is always welcome.” 

“Thank you, my lord,” Ashleigh bowed her head to him. The Lady Guinevere whispered to her ladies, made a mocking face, and her ladies tittered among themselves. 

“Lord Aaron, what think you of this suggestion about paved roads?” the baron added, giving his shire reeve a shrewd examination. 

“We should study the proposal more in-depth. I think it has merits.” 

Baron Rossen nodded down at his plate, spearing a chunk of potato and dicing it more finely. 

“Very well. If you believe you can make it work, we will open negotiations with Baron Munro. But for that, I’m going to need to fill the liaison position.”

“Alas, poor Lord Emerson,” Lord Rothmore sighed, touching his heart for a second. “He was a good lad, he was.” 

“They never did find his remains, did they?” Aaron questioned. 

“No. Nabbed in the night, and nothing left but one boot. Thank you for hearing me out, my lord baron. I have faith that this can work,” Lord Rothmore insisted. He bowed to the baron, and allowed the musicians the return of their seats and cushions, and their space. 

“Don’t thank me. Thank my shire reeve. He’s the one who is giving you a chance on this, Lord Rothmore.” 

“Sir, you have my gratitude,” Lord Rothmore bowed to Lord Aaron. The shire reeve rose up, and returned the bow.

“You are most welcome.” 

The far doors to the banquet room were flung open. A small squire and a smaller page came running at full force across the stone surface. They were lads of eight and ten respectively, both with the same light brown hair and blue eyes. They plowed through the musicians without stopping, and landed panting on the steps before the baron’s spot at the table. 

“Sir!” they peeped, first one and then the other. “Sir!”

The boys stood up and brushed themselves off, straightening their uniforms. Their enthusiasm for their jobs impressed Aaron, so unlike the page he had been summoned by the other day. 

“Yes?” the baron smiled indulgently. 

“Visitor at the gate, sir.”

“Who is this visitor?”

“For the shire reeve!” the squired shouted.

“Oh,” Aaron whispered, taking a gulp from his goblet. Excitement danced on his face. 

“For the shire reeve, sir,” the page confirmed. 

“What visitor then?” the baron asked. 

“Uncle, where are those two from? Whose family?” the Lady Guinevere questioned, eyes burning with annoyance. 

“Do not interrupt, my dear.”

“They bear your crest. They aren’t family, are they?” she frowned. 

“Boys, who is waiting for the shire reeve?” the baron asked, smiling, ignoring the Lady Guinevere’s question for now. 

“It’s her!” the squire peeped, putting both his hands to his mouth.

“Who her?” 

“She’s coming this way!” the page shivered, pointing back at the doors.

“Who her?” the baron pressed. 

A hush fell over the banquet hall as the doors were pushed in again by a very strong blast. The squire and the page scrambled under the table and hid behind the baron’s chair. Ashleigh patted them on the heads. The Lady Guinevere’s eyes were narrowing even further. 

A heavy wooden staff of gnarled cypress wood scraped the floor, holding aloft the wizened creature attached to it. Her dark green cloak flowed behind her like an oozing puddle of murky swamp water. Her dark black hair flowed about her, reaching almost to the floor, each wiry strand with a mind of its own. A lily pad was perched upon her right shoulder like a captain’s epaulette. Her left shoulder rode a good six-inches higher than her right. A high, strained cackle emerged from her lips, and a wide grin resplendent with blackened lips and darting tongue filled her shrunken face. Her tiny features scrunched together even more as she sniffed at the air, and clomped her staff along on the floor. 

“Where is this four-hare rabbit?” the visitor asked in a breathless, wheezing voice that would not have been audible if not for the dramatic hush in the room. “Let me clap my eye on him, and I will tell you all you need to know.” 

Lord Aaron rose to his feet, heart in his throat, bowels in his boots. Baron Rossen stood to his feet as well. The heavy wooden staff pulled the wizened woman into the center of the U, where she did indeed clap her one single, steel-gray eye on Rabbit. Her dark and moist smile grew even more fearsome, taking up more than half of the footage of her tiny head. 

“Lady Eleanor. I was not aware you were coming tonight. We will set a place for you at once,” Baron Rossen said, bowing, motioning for another chair to be brought. 

“ ‘Lady Eleanor’,” the visitor cackled, her chest wracking with violent coughs and wheezes. She curtseyed to the baron, and straightened back again, somewhat. “I have not been the Lady Eleanor for many a year, Lord David. Perhaps you address me so out of nostalgia?”

“Out of respect, Lady Eleanor.” 

“I beg you, do not name me so. That once-dear title is bittersweet to me, like a beautiful melody to which I can no longer dance.”

“Forgive me, madam,” the baron promised. “It is the name and title by which I have always known you.”

“It is not the name to which I will answer, Lord David,” she chided him. 

“Mistress Frogga Ironeye,” Lord Aaron breathed. “To what do we owe the pleasure? You rarely venture forth from your swamps these days.”

“The wind carried a rumor to me, that of a four-hare rabbit in our midst. Here in Quantico, the first in thirty-seven years. There he sits! Let me see him closer. Let me smell him. Let me taste him. I will tell you if he’s a four-hare or not. Yes, I will. I will. You, shire reeve, sit down. Hold your tongue.”

“Madam….” Aaron intoned deeply. 

“I said sit,” Frogga hissed, her voice folding in and on itself, her one eye glittering like a smoldering ember from a long-dead fire. The excitement had stoked her blood and stirred her magic. Her command worked its way down inside Aaron’s brain, and he found himself seated before he realized his knees were even bending. 

“Bring our esteemed visitor a chair,” the baron commanded again. “Where would you like to sit, Lady Eleanor?” 

“Thank you for the invitation, Lord David, but I must regretfully decline. I will not sup here. I have no place among such beautiful, noble creatures. I require but a cup of wine, and five minutes more. Then I will be gone. I do not mean to disrupt your dinners, or to give your refined company disquieted dreams,” Frogga whispered, leaning heavily on her staff. For a moment, if only a moment, she looked every single day of her advanced years and more – a fragile creature twisted by time and misfortune, in need of goodwill and assistance. 

A courtier stood from his own chair, carried it around the table, and placed it down behind the wizened woman. He bowed humbly to her. She nodded her thanks to him, and put a hand on his arm. 

“Bless you, my boy.”

The moment the courtier moved out of the way, Frogga touched her staff to the chair, and it flew of its own accord straight across the floor, positioning itself right directly in front of Rabbit. The young man swallowed loudly, and drifted slightly sideways around the hog’s head in order to watch the visitor walk slowly and painfully towards the chair she had moved with a flick of her wrist. Rabbit gave Lord Aaron a sideways glance, and turned his eyes back to Frogga. He could not believe his eyes, and seemed to want confirmation that Aaron was seeing the same things he himself was seeing. A tiny shrunken hand clutched the side of the chair, and Frogga peered around it at Rabbit. 

“There you are at last, Master Reed.” 

Rabbit inhaled loudly. His jaw fell open. The knife and fork he had been holding clattered to the table. He stood up, bowed quietly to the visitor, and waited until she was in her chair before he sat back down. He could not seem to peel his eyes off of Frogga, nor she him either. 

“He is not from Quantico,” Frogga pronounced, moving the huge hog’s head aside to afford herself a better view. 

“That we had surmised,” Aaron murmured. Frogga silenced him again with a frosty stare which stabbed metaphoric icicles into his bloodstream. Aaron shuddered and looked away from that piercing eye of hers. 

“He has been across the river and back again,” Frogga added. “He knows both sides of the shore well.” 

“He is from Mary’s Land?” the baron wondered. Frogga frowned, annoyed.

“No, I would say not. You have come much further than that, haven’t you, little one?” she asked Rabbit. The young man was too afraid to answer. He sat there frozen, darting his eyes back and forth between Aaron and Frogga. 

“Preposterous,” the Lady Guinevere laughed out. “Uncle, you should burn this creature for the witch she is. Black magic is a crime against the crown, is it not?” 

“Still your tongue, foul creature, or I will make your truest soul reflect in your every word,” Frogga whispered without turning around. 

“You don’t frighten me, you old bat,” the Lady Guinevere laughed. “I say we set a torch to you, and see how loud you can scream.” 

When Frogga whirled on her, the Lady Guinevere caught her breath and went pale. She coughed to clear the sudden congestion in her throat, and then snatched up her goblet. Her face twisted as if she had a terrible taste on her tongue. She coughed more harshly, and clawed at the collar of her dress. Then she spat a bright green frog and copious amounts of swamp water out of her mouth. She screeched and rocketed backwards, tipping over her chair. Her ladies shrieked and backed away as well, pulling their skirts away from the spreading mess. The bright green frog croaked loudly, and bounced down from the table, across the open area between the banquet tables. The Lady Guinevere was on her knees, convulsing and heaving swamp water once more, hiding her face as she continued to cough and gag. 

“Lady Eleanor, I apologize for the Lady Guinevere. The way she spoke to you was most unkind. But you are well aware how I feel about magic spells at the dinner table,” Baron Rossen chided carefully. 

A multitude of frogs and snakes wormed under the tablecloths, wriggling away from the stomping tiny feet of the Lady Penelope and the other ladies, and heading towards Frogga in the U between the tables. Other lords and ladies were shrinking back from the Lady Guinevere.

“Have no fear, Lord David. It is not a spell that I can control, once cast. The duration is in her own hands. When the harpy learns to curb her cruel tongue, the spell will fade by and by,” Frogga replied. “Now, Master Reed. Where were we?” Frogga asked, turning her attention back to Rabbit, who was shivering. 

“Uncle!? Make her undo this!” the Lady Guinevere wailed. 

“You have only yourself to blame, my dear. I have warned you before to be mindful what you say, and respect your elders accordingly,” the baron cautioned. 

The Lady Guinevere stopped choking and vomiting. She caught her breath and waved frantically for a servant to fill her goblet for her. The servant approached very cautiously. The frogs, snakes, and other odious swamp creatures, gathered round the hem of Frogga’s cloak. The sorceress paid them no mind. She was entirely focused on Rabbit. 

“Master Reeve? Keep this one close to you. He’s going to save your life some day. But not before he breaks your heart,” the sorceress hummed the words, her eye glazing with visions. Rabbit stared anxiously at Aaron. 

“You can’t possible look a man in the face and know such things,” the shire reeve worked up the nerve to whisper the skeptical words. “ ‘Tis but parlor games and witchery, Mistress Ironeye.” 

“Mark my words, Shire Reeve. This one is special,” Frogga replied, cackling softly as she picked up Rabbit’s goblet of wine. “Give me your hand, Master Reed. The wounded one. I cannot break skin the way I used to,” she added, flashing her toothless gums at him. 

Rabbit offered his wounded finger to the sorceress. Frogga slid her twig-like hand around Rabbit’s wrist, and spent a moment or two examining the lines on the palm of his hand. She cackled happily to herself. 

“A long life line. That’s good to know. Smart as a whip. Given to impatience. Tempered with much tenderness too. He is well-suited for you, Master Reeve.”

Frogga dipped Rabbit’s fingers into the wine, stirring while chanting quietly under her breath. After three swirls around the goblet, she pulled his hand free, and drained the wine. She gave a loud smack of her lips, her tongue darting left and right, before her grin returned. Rabbit curled his hand back to his own chest, holding his breath as he watched Mistress Ironeye. 

“That is a vintage I could drink all day,” Frogga whispered. Everyone in the room was standing up from their chair, or at least sitting on the edge of their seat, waiting for the old witch’s pronouncement. “Does my tongue deceive me, or do I detect the flavor of fell magic about you? Are you under an enchantment too, my child?” 

Rabbit’s hand rose unconsciously to his throat as Frogga continued. 

“You were attacked. Left for dead. Who has abandoned you to wander so far from home? Someone you once worshipped and followed as a son obeys a father? Someone you trusted with all your heart, until he tried to kill you?”

Rabbit sniffled and cleared his throat. His eyes were welling as he nodded to her question. 

“Have no fear of him. He will be undone by his own machinations, by and by. You have but to cut the vine at the source, and no matter how far it might have twisted and wriggled, it will wither and die,” Frogga promised as she set the goblet back down. She tapped her staff on the ground once more. When she turned as if to leave, Lord Aaron rose to his feet again.

“Lady Eleanor? Mistress Ironeye?”

“Master Reeve?” she questioned coyly over one tiny, humped shoulder. 

“What is your pronouncement on his authenticity?” 

“All truth comes at a price, Master Reeve, and you might find the cost too steep.” 

“Name your price, Mistress Frogga. I would know your pronouncement.” 

“My price, Lord Aaron, is that you give no further pursuit to John the Nose. Leave him be.” 

“So that’s your game, is it?” Aaron chuckled. “It is my duty to question John Grosbeak about these deaths, Mistress Ironeye, a duty I will fulfill.” 

“He is innocent of the charges you have levelled against him, you and the raven-haired woman in trousers. John the Nose is not responsible for the death of the Lady Rosalind, nor any of the others. He is a pawn being moved about the Board of Life by a more powerful man that he could ever hope to be.” 

“How can I take your word for this?”

“How can you not?” Frogga retorted. “What do I stand to gain by coming to this man’s defense?”

“I do not know.” 

“I gain nothing but the assurance that if I intervene on his behalf, an innocent man will not pay the price for the evil deeds of another. Do you promise you will give up your pursuit of John the Nose, to leave him to his fate? I promise you, he will not go unpunished for what he has done. He will pay the price for his misdeeds all too soon.” 

“I will not back down from my duties, Mistress Ironeye.”

“Before the court, I relieve Lord Aaron of his duties in the case against John Grosbeak, otherwise known among the common folk as John the Nose,” Baron Rossen spoke up, winking to Lord Aaron, and with eyes alone, commanding his shire reeve to be patient. “You have your price promised, Madam Frogga. Now give the man his answer about his rabbit’s authenticity.” 

“Please?” Lord Aaron pleaded. 

Frogga was turning as if to go, but changed her mind. The whirl of her greenish cloak was like a churning pool. Aaron could almost smell the brackish water, could imagine the blood-sucking, virulent pests flying around her form. The frogs and snakes and wriggling creatures riding on her train took her movement in stride. They vanished one by one into the nebulous fabric, save for the bright green frog which bounced behind her in an effort to keep up. 

“Master Reed is not a four-hare rabbit,” Frogga whispered. 

The room came alive with chatter and squeals, mostly from the direction of the Lady Guinevere and her harpies. Lord Aaron gasped out and then turned red with anger. He sensed foul trickery, and was furious that he had allowed himself to believe for half a second anything that might fall from Mistress Ironeye’s mouth. Baron Rossen pounded his goblet on the table. 

“Silence! Silence! Stand down, Master Reeve!” the baron shouted when Aaron leapt over the tables, sword drawn, advancing on Frogga. At his baron’s command, Lord Aaron lowered his sword, seething with anger where he stood. Rabbit squirmed in his seat, unable to meet the searching gaze that Aaron directed his way. 

“Raise your sword against me once more, Aaron of Hotchner, and I will remove your arms,” Frogga whispered, pulling herself up to her full height and glowering at the shire reeve. 

“Explain yourself at once, Lady Eleanor! No lies! No beguilement!” Aaron bellowed. 

“Can you not smell the smoke? He burned away one of his marks. Master Reed is a five-hare rabbit, and one of rare breeding to boot, Lord Aaron. That is my pronouncement of his authenticity, more’s the pity for him. I bid you all good night, and good morrow as well.”

The steps with which Mistress Ironeye made her escape from the chaos-filled banquet hall could only be described as a light-footed, giddy scamper. It was as if she had been rejuvenated by the blood antidote she had drunk. Lord Aaron slammed his sword back into the sheath and stomped over to Rabbit, seizing him up out of his chair by both shoulders. 

“I will have the truth from you,” Aaron warned. Rabbit nodded vehemently, absolutely terrified. 

“SUMMON MASTER BOTTLER!” Baron Rossen shouted among the growing noise. “SUMMON HIM AT ONCE!”


	11. Master Bottler's Workshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read Interlude 2

Part Three - Courtly Matters  
Chapter 11 -- Master Bottler's Workshop

 

“Your pronouncement, Master Bottler?” 

“My lord baron, I beg you. Patience, please?” 

“You have been pottering around for nearly an hour. The hallway is thick with strife, people milling around, and hanging on what your answer will be. One cannot breathe- the anticipation is too strong.” 

“You should sit down, my lord,” the court apothecary replied. 

“Damn it, man! Don’t tell me to sit down! What is taking so long?” Baron Rossen shouted. 

“Sir, if I may explain? I have done the test three times to be sure.” 

“What, if anything, are you sure of?” 

“Master Reed is at least a four-hare rabbit.”

“The Lady Eleanor declared before one and all that he is a five-hare rabbit. Do you dare to contradict the great lady?” 

“My lord baron, with all due respect, I was instructed in my occupation by a learned man, a scientific man, an ancient apothecary whom I served as acolyte and rabbit from my distant youth. This is a serious matter, too serious to be decided by the taste buds of a withered, malevolent crone. I must wean you from the teat of that swamp witch, for your own good. I know in your youth she was very kind to you, but as men of science, we cannot abandon medicine and alchemy to untrained female hands. We can no longer continue to put our faith in the feminine dark arts, as it were.” 

“You are saying she is wrong?” 

“What I’m saying is that my tests declare Master Reed to be a four-hare rabbit. Mind you, a very high-end four-hare. I can see where Frogga might think it complimentary, and even salacious, to name him a five-hare. She quite enjoyed watching the crowd swoon at her every word. But in all honesty, my lord baron, I do not reach the same high conclusion that she does.” 

“On what do you base your conclusion?”

“This test is the latest in scientific advancements, my lord baron. I take a sample that I know to be true—my own blood. We both know I am an average, unremarkable three-hare rabbit. This is my base,” the apothecary explained, showing the baron the first phial, capped with blue and filled with red blood. 

“Go on,” the baron growled, crossing his arms over his chest. Behind him, the Lady Guinevere hiccupped nervously, and put her hand over her mouth. “Yes, dear? You were going to say something?” 

“Nothing, Uncle. Nothing at all,” she insisted, then covered her mouth again. Her tiny face curdled with displeasure, but any time she opened her lips to speak, a taste rose in her throat, and she changed her mind quite rapidly. Master Bottler picked up a second phial and showed it to the baron. 

“This is the first test. I started with my own blood, and added a sample of Master Reed’s blood. You will note the color change?” 

“It’s darker in color than your original sample.” 

“Indeed, my lord baron. Now if Master Reed were a one-hare rabbit, the base would have faded to a pale shade of red, likened by many to the fairest damask rose.”

“Pink,” the Lady Guinevere interpreted grimly. 

“Were he a two-hare rabbit, the base would be likened to that of the pale blooms of the syringa vulgarius.”

“The lilac bush,” the Lady Guinevere sighed. 

“If he were a three-hare, there would be no change. A four-hare, as you see, turns the base, well, burgundy – red with purple tinges. 

“Burgundy?” the baron questioned, taking the vial and holding it up to the light.

“If he were a five-hare, as Mistress Frogga contended, the result would be dark, deep purple,” the apothecary concluded. “Much deeper than this.” 

“It looks dark purple to me,” the baron frowned.

“My lord, see for yourself. This is my second test. This is my third test. None of them are the same color.”

“But they are all shades of dark purple.” 

“To the untrained eye, but certainly not to an educated one. This is not the dark purple one would expect of a five-hare rabbit.”

“You started with the same base?” 

“Yes, my lord, I did.”

“Those are clearly all aubergine color,” the Lady Guinevere hiccupped. She covered her mouth and winced, swallowing a foul taste. 

“I agree with you, my dear,” the baron said, holding all three phials up to the light. “These first two are closer than the first and the third, mind you. It seems to grow darker the more you test. Master Bottler, could that be because your initial sample is aging as you perform the tests? The older your base, the darker the color produced?” 

“It could be, my lord baron, but as I said before, I would nevertheless classify Master Reed as a four-hare of remarkable quality, but not a five-hare, not at all. A five-hare would be dark purple. Deep, dark purple—a most royal color.”

The Lady Guinevere snatched the third vial, and held it up in her own tiny fingers.

“This is aubergine, sir, and it’s as close to deep, dark purple as one is likely to see outside a dyers workshop. My lord baron, your shire reeve is the owner of five-hare rabbit, the first one seen in these parts in decades. Uncle, please….”

“What?” the baron sighed. 

“I must have him. It’s unseemly that a lowly shire reeve, a commoner, a whoreson….” 

The Lady Guinevere stopped mid-sentence, dropped the phial, and started to heave. The baron caught the phial, and clicked his tongue at her even while patted her on the back. She swallowed hard, and frowned again. 

“You were saying?” 

“Nothing,” the Lady Guinevere retorted sharply before giving a foul-smelling burp.

“I can run the test again, my lord baron, if you so desire,” the apothecary offered.

“Yes. Again,” the baron nodded. It was then that he glanced around the room. “Where has Lord Aaron disappeared to? Where has he taken Master Reed?!” 

“The balcony, sir,” a near-by courtier clarified. “Master Reed was feeling faint. Master Reeve thought the fresh air might revive him.” 

“AARON!” Baron Rossen called out. He marched towards the double doors and pulled them open abruptly. He gasped, stepped outside, and closed them again, glancing behind himself, and turning around to face the doors. 

Lord Aaron was sitting down on a chair he had pulled outside. Rabbit was sitting on the ground, his head pillowed in Aaron’s lap. Aaron was stroking his hair with gentle fingertips. At the sound of the doors opening and closing, Rabbit pulled himself up, wobbling to his feet. Lord Aaron stood as well, offering Rabbit an arm to lean on. 

“Forgive me,” the baron murmured, clearing his throat, darting a cautious glance around. “Everyone decent?” he joked awkwardly. 

“We were never indecent, sir,” Lord Aaron replied. Rabbit slumped against the shire reeve. Aaron immediately planted him in the seat, fanning his face and staring at him in concern. 

“The court apothecary would like another blood sample.”

“He’s taken four already!” Aaron boomed angrily in response.

“You are mistaken, I’m sure. He has performed three tests.” 

“He drained Rabbit of four phials of blood,” Aaron pouted. 

“Aaron, I know you’re feeling protective. That’s only natural. It’s the bond between you and your rabbit, making you surly and temperamental. Take a deep breath, and try to understand that we’re doing the test again to make sure once and for all.”

“Make sure of what?”

“We need to verify what the Lady Eleanor claimed. If your rabbit is a five-hare rabbit, we are going to have to make certain allowances,” the baron ventured gently. 

“Everyone in court, they’ll be lining up from here to the water’s edge, demanding I let him breed with their rabbits. It’s not happening. I won’t permit it. I won’t.”

“You’re feeling very protective of him. It’s the effect of the blood antidote on your system. He’s inside you now, and you need him like you’ve never needed anyone else. You are addicted to him, I understand that, Aaron, I do, but you must listen to reason.” 

“What reason is there that any man should against his will be forced to….” 

“Aaron, be he four-hare or five-hare, you’re going to have to at least entertain a few, judiciously-chosen alliances for him. If not, you’re going to have to spend night and day by his side to protect him from those who would never stop begging your permission, or who would steal that which you are unwilling to grant for love or money.” 

“Sir, I am loathe to intrude,” the court apothecary opened the doors a crack to whisper. “But we must hurry. My last phial of base is beginning to congeal.”

“Right, yes, of course. We’ll be there in a moment,” the baron replied, closing the doors again. “Aaron? You do trust me, don’t you?” 

“Above all others, my lord,” the shire reeve promised. 

“Then might I suggest you at least allow the pretense that you will entertain serious breeding offers for your illustrious friend? With his permission, of course.” 

“If you think it wise, I will do so,” Aaron calmed slightly when Rabbit patted his hand and nodded to what the baron was saying. Rabbit climbed back to his feet, facing the baron, and bowing to him. 

“Let us give Master Bottler one last phial, and that will have to do for the night,” the baron pleaded. 

Lord Aaron escorted Rabbit back into the room, the population of which had doubled in the meantime. The baron closed the balcony doors as his most trusted counselor Lord Marsh pushed and shoved members of the court back out into the hallway. In the full light of the lanterns and candles, Rabbit was pale indeed, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent. The court apothecary was holding an unstoppered phial, which he shook invitingly at Rabbit. 

“There’s a good boy. Give us one last phial, eh?” 

“Just a minute,” Lord Aaron murmured, standing between Rabbit and Master Bottler. “Four phials you’ve sucked, three tests you have done. What became of the fourth you took?” 

“It rests here, sir, as a base,” Master Bottler explained.

“Tell me, sir. How valuable is that phial to you?” 

“I do not follow.”

“Of course you get my meaning. There must be a remarkable number of potions and elixirs and brews that you could concoct from that one phial. A drop here. Two drops there. You can cure baldness. Cure blindness. Stop a breaking heart from aching for a lost love. Tell me true, Master Bottler, how much is that one phial worth to you?”

“In truth, a phial of five-hare rabbit blood is worth the more than every other medicinal potion that I have in stock, combined.” 

“Very well. You are in Rabbit’s debt for the price of that phial.” 

“What?” the apothecary gasped. 

“It is his life’s blood. You owe him at least a percentage of what you stand to make on him.” 

“If it pleases you, Master Reeve, I will gladly give you half the money that I make from any potion or elixir that I might brew with your rabbit’s blood as the ingredient.”

“I do not desire the money. It is not a debt that you owe to me. It is a debt that you owe to him. Does this bargain please you, my dear?” Aaron asked Rabbit in a gentle voice. The change in tone was immediately apparent to anyone in earshot. Rabbit gazed at Aaron gratefully. He then looked back and forth between Aaron and the apothecary. Rabbit tugged the shire reeve around, putting their backs to all others in the room. The young man made desperate motions with his hands. Aaron glanced back over Rabbit’s shoulder at everyone. 

“I confess I do not grasp your meaning. I was never good at charades,” Lord Aaron whispered into Rabbit’s ear. Rabbit opened his arms wide, motioning around at the whole room. “You want his entire stock? No. You want his rooms? No. What do you want then?”

Rabbit grunted in frustration. He jetted forward to the work table laid out with bubbling beakers and small blue flames. He pulled on a leather apron, and mimicked stirring, mixing, and blending ingredients, pulling pretend phials off the shelves of the real phials that were lined up neatly on the walls. He faced Aaron, offering him a pretend phial. 

“You want permission to use his workshop?” Aaron asked, a slow smile spreading over his features. 

Rabbit clapped his hands together, and then grabbed Aaron’s face to smack a kiss full on his mouth. It was supposed to be a short, quick celebratory peck for successfully transmitting to Aaron what he had intended to say. However, several seconds passed, and their lips did not part ways. If anything, they tangled up more tightly in each other’s arms. Aaron was moaning almost obscenely. The Lady Guinevere made a revolted noise. The baron’s counselor quelled tiny laugh. The court apothecary gaped speechlessly at them. The baron himself watched them with sadness and understanding in his eyes. 

The shire reeve and his rabbit slowly separated, both looking surprised and apologetic. Lord Aaron put a hand over his mouth, turned red, and walked straight for the balcony doors. He went outside and hid himself in shame. Rabbit watched him go, and considered following him, but the court apothecary tugged on his arm to keep him in place. 

“You want permission to use my things? On a regular basis? For what purpose? What know you of apothecary science, Master Reed?” Master Bottler demanded. 

Rabbit’s usually-innocent features tightened with a mischievous grin. The apothecary paled in fear. 

“I warrant he knows a good deal more than he can tell us,” Baron Rossen interjected. “Do agree to the terms, Master Bottler, I insist.” 

“If you insist, my lord baron, so be it. But I want one last phial, now, Master Reed, if you please.” 

Rabbit took his own dagger from its sheath, nicked his bruised finger, and squeezed the wound until it dripped precious blood into the phial that the court apothecary was holding out to him. As each drop fell, both the Baron and the Lady Guinevere inched closer and closer to Rabbit, their eyes glittering in a most unnatural way. 

“Perhaps you two had better look a different direction. Don’t want a feeding frenzy to break out in here,” Master Bottler suggested.

“Um, yes, yes, true, yes,” the Baron agreed, spinning around and then reaching back to grab the Lady Guinevere’s shoulders to turn her away too. 

“He should belong to me,” the small fury pouted, arms crossing over her chest. 

“There, there, my dear. You must console yourself that this is not going to happen. He belongs to Lord Aaron, and that’s my final word on the matter. Let go of this at once. I insist. Do not bring it up again.” 

“But, Uncle.”

“I insist, Guinevere.” 

“I will try,” she whispered finally. 

“Thank you, Master Reed. That will do,” the court apothecary whispered hungrily. 

The Baron and the Lady Guinevere whirled around to watch the proceedings. Master Bottler poured Rabbit’s blood into the last base phial of his own blood, stoppered the glass tube, and shook it violently. He held the phial up to the light, and squinted through it as the contents settled into calmness. The final color made itself known. 

“Alas, ‘tis burgundy,” the apothecary decided.

“It’s not burgundy at all. That is purple,” the Lady Guinevere contradicted him. “Aubergine. Grape. The royal color. Whatever you want to call it. That’s as purple as purple gets.” 

“It looks like purple to me too,” the baron agreed. 

“I don’t know……” the court apothecary whined slowly. “I cannot say with complete certainty,” he said, shaking his head back and forth. Rabbit glowered in annoyance at Master Bottler as he sucked on his bleeding fingertip.


	12. Give and Take

12 -- Give and Take 

 

“I really must apologize for my unforgiveable and crass behavior earlier.” 

Rabbit blinked in surprise at Lord Aaron’s words which broke the peaceful silence that had filled the shire reeve’s apartments. Rabbit and Aaron were seated together on the two chairs before the fireplace. “Master Reed” as Frogga had dubbed him, fell into the first place he could sit down. He had slouched in his chair and laid his head back, gazing up at the ceiling in despair and concern. 

Aaron, on the other hand, had paced back and forth, lighting into his chair once, then rising up again to pace with renewed agitation. He did not sit down again until Rabbit sat up straight, reached out, and tugged on his cloak, then motioned to the second seat. Aaron absently scratched behind one ear, dropped into the seat, and gazed silently into the fire. It was then that he blurted the abrupt apology. He wasn’t done yet though. 

“ ‘Tis unforgiveable that I should have kissed you so, without your permission, and in front of other people. The tongue thing? I did not mean to do that. I don’t know where this is all coming from. I am not usually attracted to men, and I am not this forward with any attraction, as a matter of courtesy, I assure you. I will do my best from now on to contain myself, and these impulses that are flashing through me, these….I… swear, I will do my best. I look at all, and it’s all I can think of. Pleasing you. Making you happy. Giving you whatever you want,” Aaron babbled. 

Rabbit reached over and rested his hand on Aaron’s arm. Aaron took the out-stretched hand and kissed the backs of his fingers, falling on his knees before Rabbit. 

“Please, I must have your forgiveness. I beg you.” 

Rabbit leaned forward and rested himself against Aaron’s shoulder. He sighed and closed his eyes as the shire reeve laughed happily and hugged him tight. Aaron petted Rabbit’s hair—he couldn’t seem to keep his hands out of the young man’s long locks. 

“What the Baron suggested must be true. These things I keep doing – they must be the effect your blood is having on me. It’s like the worst sort of love potion. Blood-based ones are always the worst. I want to protect you. I want to keep you safe. It makes sense, because looking after you is guarding my own survival. Yes. It makes sense, right? We’ve bonded so quickly because of how strong your blood antidote is, and how much I need the blood antidote.” 

Rabbit lifted his head and studied Aaron critically, not giving any response aside from a tiny hint of annoyance in the bunched skin between his brows. 

“We have to discuss what the baron proposed, but I cannot bear the thought of sharing you, not in any way shape or form,” Aaron blurted the words. 

The shire reeve watched Rabbit’s reaction to his words, expecting happiness or relief. Instead, the young man was growing more concerned and tense by the moment. Had he been in this position before? Indeed. It showed on his face. He must had a possessive master or mistress who may have uttered those exact words to him. 

“If I ask you, you will tell me the truth?” Aaron wondered. 

Rabbit nodded. 

“Are you a five-hare rabbit?” 

The young man stared the shire reeve in the face, and shook his head no. He held up four fingers, and then wiggled his hand slightly back and forth. Aaron did not understand the gesture. Rabbit sighed, held up four fingers, and wiggled his fingers again. 

“You have been tested before, somewhere between a four and a five?” Aaron asked. 

Rabbit nodded again. 

“I want to look at your hares more closely,” Aaron said, rising to his feet, taking Rabbit by one elbow, and drawing him towards the bed under the windows. The lantern on the table shined down onto the bed. Aaron planted Rabbit in the center of the glow. “Please loosen your shirt. I wish to examine your markings. Scientifically speaking, of course.”

Rabbit stared up at Aaron in trepidation. He unbuckled his belt, let it fall back to the bed. He kept his eyes focused on Aaron’s face, and unlaced the ties to his shirt. With the ties undone all the way, Rabbit tugged the collar open, and slid his shirt down his right shoulder far enough that the shire reeve could examine his hares. 

Aaron brought the lantern closer to Rabbit’s right arm. The four blue hares were centered near the top of his arm, right where they should be. They were not off to one side or the other. The first thing any good shire reeve worth his salt should do if he suspects a rabbit is marked-up is to examine the placement of their hare tattoo. If what Frogga had said were true, that Rabbit had erased one of the markings, the hares would have been off-center to one or the other side. But Rabbit’s hares were right where they should have been. 

The second thing to do in a suspected mark-up situation was to check for imperfections or blemishes in the tattoos themselves. Rabbit’s blue hares were each perfect, identical, and undamaged. They were the perfect shade of blue too. Depending on the skill of the person who does the marking, hares would fade over time, but Rabbit’s hares were bright and beautiful. Aaron hesitated at the next thought which occurred to him. These markings could not possibly be as old as the young man who bore them. He judged Rabbit to be in his late twenties or early thirties at the most, but these tattoos were not faded or aged as he would have expected them to do. 

Well, Rabbit could have had his hares refreshed at some point, had faded tattoos remarked to make them brilliant again. But if that were true, then there would be tell-tale signs of tracing, imperfect edges where the second artist had not been able to match the first artist’s work. Aaron peered closely, and saw no signs of tracing. 

The pale, freckled flesh around the four hares was unblemished. Though the rest of his chest and back bore bruises and thin scars of various assortments and in various stages of healing, the flesh around the tattoos themselves was seemingly perfect. If Rabbit had burned away a hare as Frogga had accused, surely such a burn mark would be visible, would it not? Whether he had used fire or he had used a potion, there would have been a mark. There were no such scars. If he had done the impossible – removed all five hares and then replaced them with four hares—even that would have left an exterior mark of some kind. But again, there were no marks around the tattoos. 

Lord Aaron set the lamp down, and lifted the hem of Rabbit’s shirt, sliding the material away and leaving it behind him on the coverlet. Rabbit closed his eyes, his long hair drifting down to his neck and shoulders. Aaron pushed the dangling locks out of his way even while chiding himself about again touching the man’s hair. Rabbit’s breath became audible and ragged. He was trembling, and his heart was racing fast. 

Aaron rubbed his fingertips over, around, across the hare tattoo. The hares were not raised. If Rabbit had removed the entire set of five hares to conceal his true value, and had these four put in their place, this surely too would have left a mark, a faint trace at the very least. There was no indication that this was possible though. 

In Aaron’s unbiased opinion, whether or not he was a four-hare or a five-hare rabbit, this young man’s four-hare rabbit tattoo had not been tampered with. The shire reeve had seen his share of bad counterfeit rabbits in his day. More often than not, given the fact that most people were right-handed, and all rabbits were tattooed on the right shoulder, the marking-up had to be done by a different person, usually their owner. Blue dye, and short needles, and ten minutes of pain, and your two-hare was a three-hare and worth more in the offering. But this young man was not a counterfeited four-hare rabbit. Whether or not he was a five-hare rabbit in disguise, this four-hare tattoo was genuine. 

This did of course bring to mind a difficult question though. Frogga had said, and Rabbit had confirmed, that he was not from Mary’s Land or the Virgin Land. Why then would he have a hare tattoo of any kind? Was this system of classification universal, even unto Mary’s Land? The Wild Woods beyond the Virgin Land? Down into the Carolinas? Further yet than that? To Aaron’s knowledge, only those from the Virgin Land marked their rabbits with hare tattoos. Had Rabbit been tattooed after he had come into the Virgin Land? 

It was time for Aaron to start asking Rabbit these difficult questions, things he needed answers to, but how in the world was he supposed to obtain any reasonable response if Rabbit could not speak, and apparently could not read or write either? Aaron needed answers, but there was no solid way to get them. What had happened to Rabbit before he came here to Quantico? How did he come to find himself here? How long had he been here? Had he run away from a cruel master or a breeding farm? Had he been bought and sold on a nightly basis by someone looking to make his fortune from this man’s misery? Was the person too frightened of punishment to seek Rabbit out again and claim him as their own? Aaron thought back to last night, to the frightened man who had hidden underneath the heavy table, who had been starved and beaten, who even now shifted uncomfortably before the expression on Aaron’s face. Rabbit was tensing to flee if necessary. 

It wasn’t only fear that flittered through Rabbit’s amber eyes though. His gaze traveled slowly down to Aaron’s buckle, and stayed there. Was he calculating what his next move should be? Was he wondering what Aaron’s intentions were? Aaron turned cold with dread when he interpreted his own actions of the last few moments. 

He was stunned at himself and what he had done. He had pulled Rabbit to the bed. He had taken off Rabbit’s shirt. He was now looming over the half-naked young man, glaring down at him. Anyone in Rabbit’s position would have been intimidated, unsure what was coming next. Last night when Aaron had asked permission to feed, and Rabbit had removed his clothes so willingly, so obediently? It gave the shire reeve pause to think on that. Had Rabbit been beaten and mistreated in the past when he refused to submit to someone’s sexual advances? Were those bruises and scars indicative of the treatment he had had to endure before? Aaron felt his eyes brim. He cupped Rabbit’s chin in one hand. 

Rabbit’s jaw clenched, and cold fear flooded the young man’s face. Aaron let go when cold chills ran through his own body. He was feeling what Rabbit was feeling, and he was appalled to have caused fear in him. Aaron immediately sat down on the floor again. Flat on the floor. He wasn’t taking any chances of being misinterpreted. He planted himself in a very submissive position, and took Rabbit’s hands into his own. He kissed Rabbit’s fingers tenderly. 

“Listen to me. I don’t know who hurt you before, but you are safe with me. I swear I will protect you,” the shire reeve promised, his deep voice catching in his throat. “Do you understand? I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you either.”

Rabbit sniffled, and he fought with his emotions. He was having a hard time putting his trust in anyone. That meant he had been betrayed before. Aaron felt the emotions ripple underneath the surface, like the tremble in the earth when a raider struck the ground with his boom stick. He wasn’t sure why that memory had gone through his mind, but there it was. During the destruction of his home village and the devastation of Castle Hotchner, Aaron had watched the roaming packs of Mary’s Land raiders, dressed in their hateful gray uniforms and black boots. They had all carried long metal sticks with the bright blue flames at the top. When the raiders touched those sticks to their victims, they had trembled and shuddered. While watching Rabbit fight to subdue any hint of emotion on his face, Aaron understood that most of the hurt and the damage was underneath the surface that he was struggling to maintain.

Aaron reached up and tentatively slid his arms around Rabbit, holding him close. Rabbit did not lean into the hug. Aaron drew carefully back, and a chuckle rose to his mouth as he touched Rabbit’s bare skin. 

“Look at those rope burns. What were you thinking this morning, climbing the rigging on that three-master?” Aaron laughed softly. He bent and brushed gentle kisses to the nearest red mark. 

Rabbit’s face remained serious. He pointed upwards. 

“Have you ever been on a sailing ship before?” Aaron asked. 

Rabbit couldn’t decide whether to answer yes or no. 

“Why did you climb the mast?” Aaron asked. 

Rabbit pointed up again. 

“You wanted to be up high?”

Rabbit nodded to the question.

“For a better view of the village?”

Rabbit nodded. He stood up from the bed, and went to the desk. Aaron had left his satchel there, the one filled with maps and parchments and books about his case against John Grosbeak. Aaron couldn’t help but stare at Rabbit’s half-naked form. His skin was covered with goose-flesh because of the cold, but how beautiful he was, with his hair down in his face, those above-the-knee boots hugging his body tight. Rabbit riffled through the satchel, and extracted the largest map. He brought the folded parchment over to Aaron, and unfurled it between them. He rotated the map one way, then the other, and looked up at Aaron questioningly. 

“You want to know more about where you are?” Aaron wondered. 

Rabbit nodded enthusiastically, and looked as if he could cry with joy suddenly. That one burst of emotion which had slipped through Rabbit’s defenses soared inside Aaron’s veins as well. The keen desire to make Rabbit happy nearly overwhelmed Aaron. The shire reeve leapt up, grabbed the map, and picked up cylindrical object from the nearby shelf. He also retrieved a small, metallic orb. He snatched up the lantern in his hands as well, tucking the orb in his pocket and the map under one arm. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lord Aaron promised, full of energy and enthusiasm. He marched for the wooden door between the wardrobe and the loo. It took a couple tugs, but he pulled the door open. “Follow me,” he beckoned, climbing a twist of stone stairs. Rabbit pulled on his shirt, not a step behind the shire reeve. 

They emerged on top of the tower above the apartments. The square battlement rose above every other front tower of Castle Rossengild. There was one tower which rivaled this one, at the back of the castle where the baron’s family would be quartered in a private tower not open to the public. Rabbit’s teeth started chattering loudly the second the icy wind grabbed him. Large, wet snowflakes drifted down on them. He wished he had thought to bring a cloak. 

Aaron unfolded the map, turning towards the water, towards the direction that the wind was whipping the pennants which bore Baron Rossen’s crest. It was also whipping Rabbit’s loose shirt around. 

“I am so sick to death of snow! That is east, towards the bay. Down out of the bay leads further out into the ocean. Across the bay north and east are native tribes. We don’t go there. They don’t come here. We’ll venture together to the middle of the bay, conduct a bit of trade now and then, but honestly, the less contact with each other, the better we all get along,” Aaron explained. 

Rabbit chattered and shivered as he nodded that he understood. He held the lantern aloft, pushing his wild hair back out of his face. Aaron retrieved the small, metallic orb from his pocket, and flipped open the top of the tiny globe. A multi-pointed star was fixed in the middle, with directional initials round the outer circle. An arc of metal crossed the face. A needle below the surface of the plate of glass spun as Aaron turned around. He blew away snowflakes that landed on the open orb, and held the device for Rabbit to study. Rabbit’s amber eyes sparkled with curiosity at the object. Aaron let him hold it. Rabbit spun the orb in his hand, closed it, opened it, and studied the hinge which held it tight, studied the tiny clasp which held it closed when not in use. 

“It’s a miniature sailing compass. It’s a memento from years ago. You pull the arc upwards, like this, and move the indicator here,” Aaron explained, using one fingernail to pull the curve of metal up at a 90 degree angle and slide the moveable point of metal. “If we had any stars tonight, you could navigate your ship with this.”

Rabbit was thoroughly fascinated by the orb. 

“That is west,” Aaron indicated. “Far away in that direction, a month’s travel by carriage, lies the barony of Shenandoah. The mountains make the journey there further than you might imagine. The mountains on the far side of the deep valley, they make up the furthest borders of the Virgin Land. No one who has ventured down the far side of those mountains has ever returned alive.”

Rabbit squinted in the direction Aaron indicated. It was impossible to judge through the snowfall. 

“When Lord William was a boy, his father and his uncles, two of his brothers and most of his cousins – they all ventured into the lands beyond, and never returned, though decapitated skulls and charred bones were found in a bonfire on the border sometime after. Baron Munro put a stop to any and all expeditions into the wild lands beyond. He built a palisade fence along the border, and keeps a standing watch there at all times. Lord William’s mother threatened to hobble William if he ever went west of The Virgin Land, ever.” 

Rabbit almost dropped the lantern. Aaron lifted his tiny globe and rotated his steps, turning the map again. 

“The Carolinas lie towards the south, and jut out into the ocean itself. The hurricanes and wild currents have carved their coasts into sand bars, barrier islands, and treacherous shoals.”

Rabbit’s brow furrowed in concern. 

“I’ve only been to the Carolinas once- never going back. It’s a wild, untamable land. First mountains to the west, growing smaller, then flatter towards the east, barrier islands and beaches once you reach the shore. Every person I ever encountered there was a pirate and a thief, or a wrecker. They don’t like outsiders either. Their nefarious lairs line the coves and bays of the coastline all the way south. Strange customs there. They char their meat over open pits filled with hot coals, in the manner of the native peoples. And the sauce? It’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Quite addictive. Sour, yet flavorful. I spent six weeks there in the company of a pirate queen and her crew, much against my will. They stripped me of anything of value on my person, including my clothes, and made me work the ship as a seaman to earn my passage back home. They ransomed me to my baron once we reached the Virgin Land again. It was a terrifying experience. But the food was good.”

Rabbit tilted his head at the tale, and watched Aaron turn again. He was smiling faintly, as though he had a secret he was pondering. When the needle came to rest on the golden N on the compass, the shire reeve showed it to Rabbit.

“That is north. Mary’s Land lies in that direction, but you know, so claims Frogga Ironeye. Were you born in Mary’s Land?” Aaron asked directly. 

Rabbit shook his head no.

“But you have been there?” 

Rabbit nodded without blinking or flinching. He was telling the truth. 

“You’re lucky to be alive! What tales you could tell me, I’ll wager.”

That comment brought a broad grin to Rabbit’s face. For a second or two, the young man was all teeth. He seemed relieved to be able to admit this to Aaron. 

“See there? Can you make out the lights in the distance? Hard to do so in this weather, I know. The glow bounces off the cloud cover. It must be a settlement. I consulted the baron’s old maps once, to find out what lies in that direction. There was once a city there called ‘Friendship’. It had been a meeting place before and during the Great Border Wars. You’re too young to remember those.”

Rabbit nodded in reply. 

“I fought beside the Baron in those wars when they were at an end, when the truce was declared. We heard lots of old wives’ tales about how the land between Mary’s Land and the Virgin Land was ruined—devastated by the coming of the Great Plague, it was. Whatever caused the plague in humans also devastated the plants as well. This disease leaves the earth barren. It’s a blight that creeps and seeps upwards into Mary’s Land, poisoning her lakes and streams, leaving the land rank with decay. Nothing grows there, not on the land that I can see from this tower, least ways. But cities? Yes. There are glows of artificial light beyond the ruined places. Some say the lights are of demonic origin, but I think it must be more cities like Friendship. I used to be on the night watch in the village. Afterwards, I used to come up here and stand guard to protect Castle Rossengild against raiders. On a good night in fair weather, you can make out the spires of their buildings from here. Not tonight though. Too much wind and weather between us and them. I’ve thought more than once that there seems to be a circular cover over the top. Perhaps you think me mad, but I do know what I’ve seen. It’s like a glass lid resting on top of a dinner plate? Half an orb of glass? A hemisphere? A protective cover?”

Rabbit peered through the spyglass, anxiously studying the northern glows. 

“I swear on very clear nights that I have seen smaller lights humming around and above their city, like bees that hum around their nest, protecting their honey from thieves. May I?” the shire reeve asked, touching the spyglass. 

Rabbit relinquished the toy reluctantly, but after he did, he burrowed himself shamelessly inside the folds of Aaron’s heavy cloak, directly against the shire reeve’s person. Aaron put one arm around Rabbit’s thin waist. The young man was heaving for breath. His chest inflated and deflated rapidly. He was sniffling. Was he crying? Aaron tried to gauge what was going on, but couldn’t understand. There was a humming noise, snorts, gasps for air. Rabbit was either sobbing or laughing, or perhaps it was a combination of both. 

“How fare you? Are you taking a chill?” Aaron asked.

Rabbit’s head popped up. His eyes were moist and shining bright. His nose was damp. He was grinning again.

“Wish we could see more. When the weather clears, there will be a better view. We should go inside now though. The flakes will dampen the map. The wind will still the lantern flame. You’re going to catch your death in a cold up here if we linger too long.”

Once back inside, Aaron brought Rabbit close to the fire, standing him on the hearth rug. Rabbit was giving Aaron such a grateful look, it was almost too much for the shire reeve’s heart to bear. Something Aaron had showed Rabbit on top of the tower had filled the young man’s heart with excitement and relief. He couldn’t stop smiling suddenly. Aaron was filled with unexplainable dread. He kissed Rabbit’s fingers and rubbed his cold hands until the feeling returned. He brushed snowflakes out of Rabbit’s long hair, and smoothed the wild curls down again. Rabbit pecked Aaron’s cheek, and nosed under and against his stubbled chin to plant a quick succession of tiny kisses.

“If I never see another snowflake in my life, it will be too soon,” the shire reeve rumbled deeply. “Would you like a nice hot bath? You’re chilled to the bone, poor bunny-boy.” 

Aaron wanted to go towards the loo, but Rabbit wouldn’t let go of his master’s hands. The shire reeve got a step or two away, but Rabbit tugged gently, keeping him by his side. 

“I have to summon someone to bring hot water, if a bath is what you want,” Aaron explained, wondering why Rabbit was clutching his hand so tightly. 

Rabbit shook his head no, drawing Aaron back from the fireplace. He burrowed under Aaron’s cloak again, and studied him with an indiscernible expression which made Aaron wonder if Rabbit was debating right on this very spot whether or not he could trust himself to his new master. Or perhaps now that he was oriented as to where he was, he was plotting how to escape. Had it been a mistake to take him up on the tower? Had Aaron handed him the very information he needed? Aaron pined softly, and filled with terror and dread. Rabbit’s expression softened, and he tested out a timid smile. Was that loving look borne of true gratitude towards his new master, or was that a deceptive leer meant to placate Aaron into a false sense of security? 

Rabbit took Aaron’s hand, and pulled him towards the bed under the windows. He blew out the flame in the lantern, and the rooms were enveloped in semi-darkness. If not for the warmth from the fireplace glow, which threw faint glimmers around space, it would have been very dark indeed. Rabbit set Aaron down on the coverlet, and seductively straddled his knees. 

“What are you up to?” Aaron joked unsurely. 

Rabbit wrapped his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, scooted up his strong thighs, and dove in for a languid kiss. Aaron wasn’t quite sure where to put his arms or his hands. It had been a long time since Aaron had been kissed like this. Last night did not count. Neither did the kiss they had shared in front of everyone in the court apothecary’s workshop. It had been a long, dry spell for Aaron. He had not been this captivated by anyone since Haley’s death. At first grief had not allowed him to entertain the thought of being with someone besides his beloved rabbit. Then shyness and propriety had kept him from lusting for even simple human contact. Six months had passed, and he hadn’t so much as glanced at another person with desire in his thoughts. Not until Rabbit. As much as Aaron wanted to blame his addiction to Rabbit’s blood antidote for the way he was acting, he knew in his heart that this was not mere addiction that he felt. Aaron could have beaten Addiction as easily as he could have beaten Adversity. What the hell was this? What was he feeling? Why couldn’t he control himself around this young man? 

Rabbit positioned Aaron’s arms snuggly around his waist. He tugged his own shirt off in one quick whip of movement, and latched on for another wet kiss. The shire reeve’s uncertain, rough hands traced Rabbit’s spine, moving from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back. These tender touches brought Rabbit even closer into his grip. Aaron attempted to gauge Rabbit’s motivation for what he was doing. Was this a trap? He wasn’t sure what to do with himself at first. It seemed only natural to Aaron that he should lean in with his mouth and seize one of the rose-red nipples mere inches away. 

The touch of Aaron’s mouth made Rabbit buck once and inhale shakily. Aaron suckled with careful ease. Each flick of his tongue, each draw, made tiny quivers and shivers run through Rabbit’s body. The young man wasn’t faking arousal to subdue or deceive Aaron. He was delighted with what the shire reeve was doing. Aaron had only to study Rabbit’s flushed features, parted lips, and half-lidded eyes. He slid his hands down to cup under Rabbit’s backside, and pulled him chest to chest. Their sexes brushed through their clothes, and Rabbit opened his mouth. There were little vibrations through his body core. He would have been making sounds if he could have. 

He hasn’t always been voiceless, Aaron knew. 

“Shall I carry on?” Aaron requested, his voice a deep rumble. The tip of Rabbit’s red tongue darted quickly out and back again. Aaron moved his mouth to the other nipple, but Rabbit stopped him. The young man’s fingers dove downwards, unhitching the shire reeve’s belt, riffling up his shirt hem, and tangling through the laces of his breeches. 

Aaron was shoved abruptly back against the mattress. His shirt was pushed up to his arm pits, and his trousers were all but torn open. And then, pure bliss. Rabbit opened his mouth and swallowed Aaron’s full length. The shire reeve groaned out, not in protest but in desire. 

“You’ve clearly…. clearly… oh gods, forgive me…. I don’t mean this….. in a bad way…. but you’ve done this sort of thing before, haven’t you?” Aaron gasped. 

Was that a cough or a chuckle he felt around himself? Rabbit hummed in his throat, and Aaron thought he might pass out from the pleasure of it. He put a guiding hand on top of Rabbit’s bobbing head, arching his hips with each talented lick and stroke. He couldn’t help but watch. The young man’s long hair teased Aaron’s skin like pure silk. Lit by firelight, Rabbit was like a supernatural creature. His full mouth stretched further to accommodate Aaron’s cock. Those plush lips cushioned and caressed him. That devilish tongue was caressing, swirling, moving up and down and back again. 

Aaron crooned in pleasure, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He filled Rabbit’s throat, crying out loudly. When all was said and done, and he lay panting, the cold air reminded him just how foolish he must have looked. His sense of propriety scolded him—he could hear his mother’s voice in his mind. What would people think if they could see him now, with his cloak askew, his shirt pushed skyward, and his knees bent open this way? Like some drunken carouser in an unlocked sally-forth, his pants on the ground, with some half-naked, red-mouthed whore pushed against the bricks in front of him? 

“Well,” Aaron heaved, rasping for breath. “Aren’t you full of surprises?” 

He reached below and fumbled to pet Rabbit where the young man lay tumbled between his master’s legs. Aaron fought with the mental image of having Rabbit half-naked, pushed against a wall, being buried deep inside him, thrusting, penetrating, making Rabbit buck and writhe with pleasure. It did not help that Rabbit was darting small licks along the trail of dark curls which rose up Aaron’s lower abdomen and to his navel. He nestled against Aaron’s chest as the shire reeve struggled to compose himself. 

“That settles that,” Aaron whispered in the night. “I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

Rabbit kissed Aaron’s chest one last time, and started to fix his clothes together for him. Aaron was stunned. Why was Rabbit helping him get dressed? 

 

 


	13. Betwixt and Between

13 -- Betwixt and Between

 

“Word spreads fast in this barony,” Baron Rossen commented quietly at the breakfast table. Lord Aaron stopped staring at Rabbit, the waves in his hair, the curve of his lips, the square of his jaw. He gave his full attention to his master.

“Sir?” the shire reeve questioned. 

“Why are you smiling?” the baron asked, eyes narrowed to shrewd slits. Aaron became suddenly aware of the broad grin teasing his lips, and he pulled his joy quickly in check. 

“Smiling? Am I? You must be mistaken, my dear sir.” 

“You were smiling,” the baron accused. 

“I was not,” Aaron defended. There was a quiet snort, snort, snort to Aaron’s left – three quick inhalations of air which he had grown to realize was the best Rabbit could manage in terms of laughter. The shire reeve glanced to his left. Rabbit snorted again, and buried his amusement behind the fine porcelain cup he had clutched in his long-fingered hand. 

Aaron was lost in thought again for a long moment, watching the morning sunlight play on Rabbit’s hair and across his features. Last night, Aaron had not been permitted to return the favor, and he wasn’t sure why. Rabbit had helped him redress, and then the young man had retreated to his own small bed. Aaron had spent the remainder of the last evening staring across the distance between their beds, wondering if he had done something wrong. Had he somehow offended Rabbit? He had replayed his every action, his every reaction, fearing he had been uncouth or unkind. 

By morning light though, Rabbit did not appear angry at all. He had smiled in reply to every loving glance and tender caress that Aaron sent his way since they had awakened. Rabbit had even permitted Aaron to shave him this morning. What a difference that had made in his appearance! He was even more youthful, even more beautiful. Aaron understood now why Rabbit had kept the beard for so long – without it, his true age was more in question. Aaron wondered how young he actually was! As much as Aaron couldn’t stop running his fingers through Rabbit’s auburn-sandy tresses, the desire to caress his smooth face was equally overwhelming. Even now, the shire reeve caught his hand lifting, moving, touching along the edge of Rabbit’s square jaw. 

“Aaron,” the baron scolded gently. “I have had no less than thirty-two requests for an audience today, one from practically every lord and lady’s family within riding distance.”

“Thirty-two requests? Really?” Lord Aaron hummed, thinking to himself darkly that there were going to be a whole lot of terribly disappointed people in this barony, weren’t there? 

All other thoughts burned away as he let his eyes trace Rabbit’s smooth features again. Aaron longed to escort Rabbit back to their apartments, strip him down to his native pinks, and spend the day licking every square inch of bare skin on his body. Aaron didn’t have much an idea what to do with a man in bed, but how different would it be, really? He was convinced that whatever he didn’t know how to do, Rabbit would willingly show him the ins and outs of how to please him, to be sure. 

“Thirty-two requests? That’s astounding! If you were to charge a nominal price for each copulation, you could earn more income in one year than Uncle could pay you in a lifetime,” the Lady Guinevere spoke up from the other side of the small table. 

The Lady Guinevere had all three of her rabbits with her at what was supposed to be an intimate breakfast – Peggy, Abby, and Wendy. All three young woman were yawning. Aaron imagined they had been up since before dawn. They had been preened and dressed for presentation. They glowed like sparkling gumdrops covered with sugar sprinkles, each one dressed in a different shade, and each one equally as tempting. 

“Do you expect me to pimp out my bunny-boy for a steady income, at the pleasure of whoever pays the highest price? Have you no shame? Have you no morals? Have you no consideration for the dire circumstances of your fellow human beings?” Lord Aaron chided her. 

“If your conscience is bent on philanthropy, why don’t you think on all the good you could do with money like that?” the Lady Guinevere replied. Aaron made a sour face at her, and picked up his knife.

“Madam, if you continue in a similar vein, I shall have no choice but to hurl cutlery at you,” the shire reeve threatened sulkily. 

“Heel, both of you,” the baron interjected. “This is like dining with my war council when Baron Culpeper gets them riled up.” 

“My lord baron, do you agree with the Lady Guinevere’s lurid suggestion? That I should make my fortune on what dangles betwixt and between my rabbit’s legs?” 

Aaron’s direct question shocked the baron. He got right to the point when he replied, without hesitation. 

“I would never have put the delicate matter in such unnecessarily graphic terms. But as I said last night, you must entertain one or two judiciously-chosen alliances. It could benefit both you and your rabbit, financially as well as politically.” 

Aaron looked to Rabbit, who stared morosely down into his breakfast. Was it making him uncomfortable to be talked about while he was sitting right there in the room? It must have been painfully frustrating, not to be able to voice his opinion. Rabbit avoided Aaron’s gaze, but he did not avoid the hand that Aaron slid sideways. As Aaron rubbed Rabbit’s forearm on the armrest of his chair, he watched Rabbit forlornly holding his tea cup close. Aaron was not imagining the misery that was creeping like decay and mistrust through Rabbit’s whole entire body. 

“If it unhinges you so completely to trust your precious bunny-boy to someone else, even for as little time as it would take to complete these sexual transactions, you could always ask to remain in the room,” the Lady Guinevere chortled, smiling brightly at the shire reeve. 

The tiny sadist was enjoying every moment of discomfort she was causing Lord Aaron. More than that, each of her own rabbits perked up at their mistress’s words. It was evident that the stronger the emotions that either master or rabbit felt, the more the companions would echo the emotions of the other. All three girls smiled slyly at Rabbit. He drew back nervously from the lot of them. Aaron could smell the fear rising off of Rabbit’s skin. The young man had been forced to breed before, hadn’t he? He was not at all stupid about what the Lady Guinevere was suggesting, nor was he blind to the fact that she had brought her companions along in order to speed up what she assumed was a foregone conclusion – that her rabbits would be the first to be granted permission to breed with him. 

“Frankly, neither of you are considering Rabbit’s freedom of choice in this matter,” Aaron said, all the while studying Rabbit’s face. Those words brought his companion’s chin up slightly with hope. Rabbit gave Aaron a grateful glance tinged with sorrow. 

“Ask him then,” the Lady Guinevere sneered. “Master Reed, do you want to be rich? Do you want fine clothes, and good food, and roof over your head? Do you enjoy creature comforts? Anything you desire can be yours. All you have to do is lie back, spread your legs, and let a few pretty, perfumed creatures have their way with you.” 

Aaron whipped his knife in the Lady Guinevere’s direction. She squeaked, and ducked in the nick of time. The blade held steadfast in the high back of her wooden chair. Her rabbits scattered from the table and fled to the edges of the room with a whirl of skirts and shrill squeals of terror.

“Aaron!” Baron Rossen scolded, laughing in spite of himself. He knew enough about his shire reeve’s marksmanship skills to know that as angry as Aaron was, he had missed on purpose. 

The Lady Guinevere’s words had had a profound impact on Rabbit. He put down his tea cup, pulled his booted feet up into his large chair, and wrapped his arms around his knees. He looked as if he might be getting sick. He swallowed back a throat full of bile and breathed shallowly. Lord Aaron put a comforting hand on Rabbit’s arm, and the young man flinched at the touch. 

“There’s no need to be churlish. You know what I’m saying is true,” the Lady Guinevere huffed, retracting the knife and setting it down with a clank on the table’s surface. Curious that someone with such a fear of knives had handled the blade both correctly and adeptly, like plucking a dangerous adder by the neck and tossing it aside without a second thought to the danger of it. She beckoned her rabbits to return to their places, and they did so while watching the shire reeve most nervously. The baron reached over to Aaron’s place and took away his fork, giving him a large spoon with which to continue eating.

“My boy, if you aren’t careful, you’re going to start a civil war in my barony over this matter,” the baron cautioned gently. “I am at your service for whatever help you might need. I would never let you go into these negotiations blind. I am more than happy to help you navigate these stranger waters. Can you believe for one minute that I would let someone take advantage of you, or of your friend here? If you think you would be choosy, then sir, imagine how much more choosy I would be for you, for your sake? I love you like a son, and I extend the familial love that I bear for you to anyone that you would hold dear to your heart.” 

Aaron turned to face Baron Rossen, and bowed his head in thanks. 

“I will see to it personally that neither you nor your friend here mistreated in any way,” the baron promised. 

Focused on each other in earnest, they did not see the look that the Lady Guinevere was shooting their direction. Malevolence whirled like dark clouds in her sharp blue eyes. Her small head clicked sideways with a snap when she realized Rabbit was watching her. She sneered at him, and curled up her tiny mouth with disdain and hurt and jealousy. 

“Thank you, my lord baron. I will discuss this matter with Rabbit at length, in private. The final decision will be his and his alone. If he chooses to service anyone, it will be at his own discretion. Not mine, not yours, and certainly not hers,” Lord Aaron added with a growl as he glared at the Lady Guinevere. 

“As you wish,” the baron conceded. 

The Lady Guinevere rolled her eyes so far back into her head that for a moment she looked possessed of evil spirits, especially when she weaved her little head back and forth, and mouthed silent, mocking words. 

“Guinevere, do stop, I beg you. You are a trifle too mature in age to be playing the petulant child to get your way.” 

“If there are any alliances to be negotiated, I would gladly accept your help, my lord,” the shire reeve continued. The Lady Guinevere snorted loudly in annoyance. 

“If you have any sense between those ears of yours, shire reeve, you’ll mark what I’m telling you. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on here. You are positively loathe to share him, aren’t you? That’s what this is about—you and you alone. You are smitten, and you don’t want to share your toy,” she teased gleefully. “My love, my dear, my precious….” she mocked, rolling her eyes and weaving her head side to side again. 

Aaron growled and picked up Rabbit’s breakfast knife. This time, he wasn’t going to miss. The baron stayed Aaron’s hand, and took the second knife away from him. 

“Guinevere, that’s enough! That’s more than enough. Shut your mouth at once,” Baron Rossen said, pounding the table with one fist. 

Rabbit put his feet on the floor, and sat up straight in his chair. He studied the Lady Guinevere with a hateful, reptilian chill to his features. He dug his short nails into the armrests of his chair, and plotted five ways to kill her with objects in easy reach. 

“The tower clock will chime nine bells soon. You should make haste, and not keep your students waiting,” the baron suggested sternly. Aaron wondered if the baron had seen the look Rabbit was giving the Lady Guinevere. She certainly had seen it, because she was focused on him entirely now. 

“But, Uncle, I haven’t even begun to negotiate with you for my darling girls yet. Each one of them has expressed a keen desire to be…. how did you put it, shire reeve…. serviced by Lord Aaron’s new rabbit. Where shall we start the bidding?”

“Guinevere, do not test my patience this morning,” the baron warned. 

“Very well, dear sir. We shall discuss this another time,” the Lady Guinevere beamed excitedly. She bustled to her feet, shook off the crumbs from her napkin, and hummed happily to herself. Make no mistake – the evil shrew had been invigorated by the anger and jealousy she had stirred up. She danced merrily to the door with her entourage of rabbits trailing behind her, their silk skirts swooshing, and their tiny feet drumming across the floors.


	14. Both Ears A-Twitching

14 -- Both Ears A-Twitching

 

The wooden door had barely closed before the baron started to speak. 

“Aaron, I’m surprised at you. You should not let that woman bait you into arguments so easily. Like her aunt, the Lady Isabella, if Guinevere cannot inspire affection in you, she is more than willing to settle for invoking dyspepsia in its absence.”

“Aye, my lord baron. I should not let her bait me so.” 

“Learn to ignore her when she is being spiteful.”

“If I did that, my lord baron, I would never pay her a moment of attention,” the shire reeve scoffed.

“Your rejection of her affections has turned her delight with you to disdain, and now nothing else will please her more than to bait you, to anger you, to make you flare with fury at her very presence. Please, for pity’s sake, learn to dismiss her tantrums and her barbs. She seeks a reaction, and you’re giving her one every time. Feign boredom with her antics, and by and by, she will leave off.”

“I will try, my lord baron.” 

“We have more important matters to discuss.” 

“Yes, we do. When can I again leave to pursue John Grosbeak?”

“What? Aaron, no. You gave your word to the Lady Eleanor that you would drop all pursuit of John the Nose.”

“You’re right, my lord. I apologize. Why do you continue to call her that, though she does not wish it? She was long ago stripped of any right to that title or its privileges.” 

“I call her the Lady Eleanor because she was very kind to me, when I was in a position not dissimilar to your own when you first came here. The orphaned, bastard son of a disinherited, banished daughter? No one in this court looked twice at me nor treated me with a mote of kindness, none but the Lady Eleanor. She was my greatest supporter when I was named heir by the previous baron, my dear Uncle. I sometimes wonder if that isn’t what caused her downfall. Fate made me heir by killing every offspring of the baron and his brother. I was his only blood option left, and that galled him. The Lady Eleanor was my champion, not dressed in steel nor wielding a blade, but she fought for me, armed with wit and intelligence and a gentleness of nature. You and others may see a frightful, gnarled crone. But that is not the woman that I see.” 

“Yes, sir,” Aaron bowed his head in shame.

“You gave your word of honor. Lady Eleanor’s current disgrace does not preclude you from your duty to uphold your word to stay out of this case.”

“Please, sir, I’m begging you. Grant me leave to pursue John Grosbeak once more. In spite of what she might think, I earnestly believe that he is my man in these crimes. You cannot let him go unpunished.” 

“I must refuse your request, if only for your own sake. You will have no more dealings in the matter. We have more important things to discuss.” 

“What could be more important than stopping a killer?” 

“My declining health.” 

“Don’t be morose. You’re as healthy as a horse, my dear baron.” 

“If I were a horse in this condition, you’d be dragging me to the knacker’s yard.”

“Stop. I won’t hear of such things. You’re fine. You’re tired is all that’s wrong. You need to get outside this castle more often, indulge in a horse race or two. Trot your fillies and your stallions around the grounds, around the village. Take a small retreat. Take a hunting party round the forests. Round up a stag or two. It will make you feel better.”

“Aaron, listen to me. I am seven and sixty this year. A remarkable age. I’m lucky to be in the state I’m in, living and breathing and carrying on. But that isn’t going to last forever, and I want to make sure important things will carry on after me.” 

“Sir, I….” Aaron stammered. “Why don’t you take Ashleigh and attend a performance at the Wooden Plants tonight?”

“Listen to me,” the baron repeated. “I want your word, Aaron.” 

“Anything, my lord baron. You have but to command me.” 

“I want you to find someone you can spend the rest of your life with, someone you can trust, someone you can love. I want you to have children. I want you to settle down, and be happy. I want you to run this barony for me after I’m gone.” 

“What?” Aaron was floored. 

“At the next presentation ceremony, I mean to declare you my heir before my council, and before this entire barony. I will have it be known, legally, to one and all, that upon my death, I mean for you to inherit both my wealth and my seat.” 

“You’re not going to die,” Aaron sniveled softly, his voice shaking. The years melted away. He heard himself as he once had been, the frightened, lonely orphan that Lord David had taken under his wing and befriended. After Aaron’s mother’s death, the baron could have easily turned Aaron out into the streets and left him to his own devices. But instead, Baron Rossen had been father, friend, and tutor to Aaron since he was but a child. The idea of losing his master was not something the shire reeve could stomach. 

“My dear boy, I don’t mean to upset you, but we are all going to die someday.” 

“Not now. Later. Much later.” 

“Are you willing to accept the duty I want to command of you?”

“I am yours completely in whatever you would command of me.” 

“But what?” 

“Even if the bond between you and the Lady Guinevere is tenuous at best, through marriage, not through blood, even though…” 

“Swear to me that you will never let that creature inherit Castle Rossengild,” the baron whispered gravely. “Aaron, I have had all the necessary papers drawn up in private. Only you, and Ashleigh, and Lord Marsh are privy to these plans. And of course, now Master Reed as well, but I think of the four of you, he will keep the secret best,” Baron Rossen joked. “Aaron, we must plan ahead. None of us is going to live forever.” 

“It upsets me when you speak of such things. After what happened with Haley, this is too soon for me to ponder losing you too,” Aaron admitted. 

“Perhaps it was the loss of your dearest Haley and how it has affected you which drove home to me that I needed to move ahead with these plans. I know the pain you’ve dealt with. I do understand. That is why I want to see that you will be taken care of, and that you will take care of this barony for me.”

“You speak as if you have one foot in the grave already. You need something to distract you from your maladies. You are obsessed about your health. If you had a family of your own – a true family – that would make you feel better. What if you were to take Ashleigh to wife?” 

“Ashleigh? She’s barely half my age. She would have to carry me across the threshold,” the baron mused. “She’s a country lass who does her best at court, but if I were to take her to wife, the harpies would pick her to death with unkindness after unkindness. I will not see my pretty bird so abused. No.” 

“What of the Lady Prentiss? She could handle anything these harpies dish out. You could father a child with her. Start a new family, and give yourself something to look forward to.” 

“Oh, no, no, no,” the baron chuckled. “I am far past the stage for bouncing babies on my knees. That pleasure was never to be mine. Over the years, watching you grow, that has given me more than enough fatherly happiness.”

Aaron caught his breath and took a quick drink from his goblet. He gazed into the bitter breakfast ale, and put it back down again. 

“Sir, if you suspected that the Lady Isabella was poisoning your virility, why did you never have her brought up on charges?” 

“By the time I realized who it was that had poisoned me, the damage was done.”

“Who else could it have been?” 

“Truth be told, I had feared for a few weeks that it was your mother, especially when she disappeared the way she did.” 

Aaron considered that thought and nodded. “I see your point. That would not have been out of the realm of possibility.” 

“We should not speak ill of the dead,” the baron smiled. 

“She would not hesitate to speak ill of us in kind,” Aaron smiled back. 

“When I realized it was the Lady Isabella who had done the evil deed, we were by then freshly divorced, and I, a cuckold shamed before my lords. She lost her steady income and her train of lovers. But I had blamed an innocent woman, and I had lost my dignity, and the respect of my lords. I wasn’t about to let them know that I had also been robbed of the ability to father children. They might have had me cast out at that point, left me to wander as a hermit or a beggar. If not for the fact that I had to you to take care of, I might have let them too. The gods put you in my care for a reason. You, Aaron, are the reason I am alive today. You are the only reason I have fought tooth and nail all these years to hold onto this seat of power.” 

“Is there nothing that Master Bottler can do for you?” 

“He and the court physician both tried for many years, to no avail. My virility was never the same, and my health has declined ever since.”

“I’m so sorry. If I had had any idea what I was seeing….”

“But you had no idea, my boy. Neither you nor I wanted to believe the Lady Isabella could have been so deceitful.” 

“When I think of the cheerful way she would brew and hoard that ale for you. How proud she was to serve you her old family recipe. It should have been obvious what she was doing! My bile rises when I think of how she would dole it out by the gallon at holiday events to any man she despised, and how she would rush to fill your cup whenever it was empty.” 

“That eagerness should have clued us both in,” the baron agreed. “But I had the last laugh on her, did I not?” 

“Did you?”

“She sits at Briar Leigh, watching her beauty fade, watching her followers dwindle, and feeling her power slipping away. I have had the last laugh on her. Or at least I used to think I had,” the baron sighed. He sat up straighter, and centered his eyes on Rabbit. “Master Reed drinks in our conversation with both ears a-twitching.”

Rabbit hid back in his chair. He picked up his tea cup and hid behind it, putting on a façade of innocence. 

“You may as well drop the charade, Master Reed. Mute you might be, but you are not nearly as simple as Aaron is determined to believe. Am I correct? Yes or no?” 

Rabbit shook his head no, and the baron squinted at him. 

“Do you mock me, sir?” the baron tested him. Aaron patted Rabbit’s arm tenderly when the young man rasped with fear. 

“I believe he misunderstood the question, my lord baron. He does not mean to try your patience,” the shire reeve whispered. Rabbit was blushing, hiding, ducking downward in Aaron’s shadow. 

“He understands me all too well. He isn’t fooling me whatsoever. Though you, you could not be more ensnared. You are perfectly under his spell. And after only one brief taste of him, the Lady Guinevere cannot seem to focus her attentions anywhere else either. While I do wonder if the blood of a four-hare would help me….”

Rabbit nodded to Aaron, extending his hand, and his much-prickled finger. 

“No, thank you, Master Reed,” the baron laughed. “It would be folly indeed to seek an antidote from those envenomed veins of yours. All the more deadly, from those lips. How deeply have you drunk of the boy, Aaron?” 

Aaron felt himself blushing under Baron Rossen’s scrutiny. Even as he struggled to answer the baron’s question truthfully, he was thinking again of how disappointed he had been about not be allowed to take suck of Rabbit as Rabbit had done him last night. All Aaron wanted to do was to carry Rabbit back to their apartments and be alone with him. Was the baron right? Was he under some dark spell? Was this witchery? Should he be afraid? He was suddenly all the more determined not to let Rabbit have his way. 

“Look at you. You are in trouble, aren’t you?” the baron sighed. “Well, I’m not under his sway, and have no plans to be so. I see the glimmer of understanding in those eyes of his. Can he read or write?” 

“I doubt it, sir.”

“Have you asked him directly? He would answer you directly, I imagine, because he trusts you?”

“I do not believe he can read or write. He could not orient himself by the map that I showed him. I wrote his name for him, and it was clear he had never seen the like of it before. Whether he has the capacity, I do not know. Perhaps he has never had the benefit of education?”

“But he must have some measure of intelligence and at least a degree of education, however minimum, to have the desire to use the court apothecary’s workspace.”

“There is that,” the shire reeve agreed. They both watched as Rabbit gingerly refilled his tea cup and stirred it with a trembling hand. He gave them nervous sideways glances. 

“He puts on a mask of innocence to please you, Aaron, because you have somehow conveyed to him that you wish him to be a child to you.” 

“Have I?” Aaron wondered. Rabbit’s hand trembled more. “You do not need to pretend simplicity to please me. Be yourself for me. That is what I wish. Do you understand? Yes or no?” 

Rabbit nodded slowly. 

“You’re going to need a man you can trust at your side, and I don’t see why that man can’t be your rabbit as well. With Karl on one hand as commander of your armies, and Master Reed on the other as your counsel-in-chief, you will be well set, I feel,” the baron pressed on. 

“Karl does show the makings of a fine soldier, though he has his hands full at the moment with Rose and the baby. I don’t know if Rabbit is suited to be a counselor,” Aaron whispered. Rabbit was shaking his head no as carefully as possible. “No matter. He will always have a place at my side,” the shire reeve promised, eyes twinkling at his companion’s timid, shy glance. 

“Oh my word. You are completely besotted. Rub your eyes, and shake off the fairy dew. If Master Reed is capable of learning, we must teach him all that he can learn,” the baron decided. 

“And if he’s not capable?” 

“Pray that he is,” Baron Rossen replied. “Oh gods. Is that ten bells I hear?” 

They waited out the last boom from the carillon of chapel bells from far above their heads. 

“Eight….nine…..yes, my lord baron. Ten bells, it is,” Aaron answered. The small mantle clock came alive, echoing ten more tiny chimes. 

“Well, there it is. No more time to dally. We must be off,” the baron announced. 

“Where are we going?” Aaron asked. 

“The Great Hall. We have thirty-two audiences, at one quarter-hour each, which will occupy us both for the next eight hours at the very least,” Baron Rossen answered as he rose from his chair. 

“But….” 

“You’re not leaving alone to face that mob. We will give the bloody moochers a good voir dire. If any of them spike his fancy, I’m sure he’ll let us know.”


	15. Slave to Duty

15 -- Slave to Duty

 

“Your kindness, if you would be so gracious as to consider our request, my wife and I would be internally….that is to say…. eternally grateful. Thank you for your time.”

“Indeed, Lord Greenwell. I will give your request a good deal of attention,” Baron Rossen promised, turning towards Lord Aaron seated to his right. His shire reeve’s eyes were twinkling with merriment even while he managed to keep a very serious expression on his face. Baron Rossen wasn’t sure as to the source of Aaron’s amusement, at least not yet. 

Lord Greenwell bowed, took a step away, bowed again, and began the long process of back-stepping towards the large open doors of the Great Hall. All the while, the exiting lord’s eyes travelled down the row of chairs on the slightly-raised platform. The baron himself was front and center. His rabbit Ashleigh was seated to his left. Lord Aaron was seated to the baron’s right. Further down on the shire reeve’s right, Rabbit’s long legs were scooting further downward and outward from the chair in which he was slouched. He was asleep, and slipping from his chair.

Aaron put out a hand and caught Rabbit in time to keep the dozing young man from tumbling out onto the floor. Aaron leaned to his right and whispered softly to Rabbit, who rubbed his eyes and nodded, sitting up straighter in his chair and shaking himself awake once more. Baron Rossen watched Aaron scoop up Rabbit’s left hand and curl their fingers together. A faint smile traced the baron’s face before he gave his attention to the next person who had petitioned him for an audience today. 

“My dear Lord Woodbridge! How good it is to see you again!” Baron Rossen exclaimed. The elderly man gave a bright smile and glanced around to make sure that everyone who stood near noted that the baron was being very familiar with him. 

“And you as well, my lord baron,” the man bowed carefully. The page at Lord Woodbridge’s side rushed forward and handed Aaron a sealed scroll, and bowed his way backwards until he was at his master’s side again. 

Six hours ago, Aaron had been slowly peeling the seals to read each proposal, taking great care not to break the wax, not wanting the bad omen of a broken family crest to haunt him. It was an old superstition, but one that he had always held firm to. A man should always be able to open correspondence without breaking the familial crest of the sender. Aaron was getting a lot of practice today. Now it took no more than two seconds, grab the ribbon, give it a firm yank, and voila! Lord Woodbridge’s seal popped off intact, and Aaron smiled to himself. 

“I am petitioning you on behalf of my eldest daughter Mabe. You know well, my lord baron, that Mabe was born to me from my first wife. She has reached the age of eight and twenty, having survived one pregnancy in her time. Alas, the babe was not long for the world, and we gave him up to the reeds not a month after he was born. But still in yet, my Mabe is a very high-quality, three-hare rabbit, and she does have evidence of being fertile,” Lord Woodbridge explained as Aaron studied the glorious hand-writing on the parchment and listened along. 

“Your Mabe is a well-educated and very pleasant young woman with many fine qualities, not the least among them being her tender heart,” Baron Rossen replied. Lord Woodbridge glowed with pride to hear that the baron knew of his daughter personally. 

“Mabe served as rabbit and companion to our dear friend and ally Lord Lambeth, until his unfortunate passing two years ago. He bequeathed to her a goodly sum of money, which she has used to continue her education.”

“I see her often in the castle library,” Baron Rossen nodded. 

Rabbit was suddenly wide-awake. He gasped and flapped a hand at Aaron to get his attention. Aaron lowered the scroll and narrowed his eyes at Rabbit. 

“What?” the shire reeve mouthed. Rabbit was bouncing in his chair in excitement. He stood up, and Aaron pulled him back down. “You have not been granted permission to leave. What is it?” Aaron repeated, leaning close.

Rabbit’s hands were jittering with excitement. His entire body shivered. Lord Woodbridge was grinning again. Baron Rossen smiled, waiting for an explanation.

“Does your young friend need a momentary pause?” Lord David wondered. 

Rabbit clapped his hands together, long and thin, and folded them open. Aaron shook his head no, that he did not comprehend. Rabbit’s hands trembled, but he made the motion again—hands held out in front, then folded open to each side. 

“I think he needs a comfort break,” Lord Aaron reported to the baron. 

“Very well. We will all take one,” the baron agreed happily. 

Rabbit leapt up, grabbed Aaron’s arm, and hauled him bodily for the side exit from the Great Hall. They rushed through two pages standing there, pushed through the purple flowing curtains, and emerged into a long, stone corridor lined with windows on one side and doors along its length running both directions. Rabbit wasn’t sure which direction to go. He whirled and took Aaron by both hands.

“What has gotten you so excited?” the shire reeve wondered. “Do you like Lord Woodbridge’s proposal. I must say, I have met Lord Woodbridge’s daughter Mabe, and she would be a fine choice as well as a politically….”

Rabbit was rolling his eyes in exasperation, shaking his head back and forth. He made the gesture from before – hands out in front, first folded together long and straight, and then pulled outward to each side. He stared at Aaron, and was blatantly annoyed that the shire reeve did not understand him. He mouthed a word over and over and over again, no sound emerging from his lips, only a puff of air each time. Aaron did not recognize the word, but a bell seemed to ding somewhere in his head. 

“Book?” 

Rabbit sagged with relief and hugged Lord Aaron around the knees, nodding until the shire reeve was worried his head might snap off. Rabbit was gasping for air, laughing soundlessly, almost hysterically. Aaron petted the top of his head, and lifted him back to his feet. 

“We don’t have time for books right now, but I will take you to the library after we are done.”

Rabbit flamed with anger, his mouth and face pinching tightly. Aaron made to pull him back into the Great Hall, and Rabbit tugged with all his might in the other direction. He stomped one foot, and hauled Aaron back around to face him. He pointed towards the exit to their far right, and stomped his foot again. Aaron was warring with himself. His heart said he must at once do whatever Rabbit asked, but his mind, remembering the baron’s admonition about being bewitched, refused to obey what his heart was commanding. 

“I said no. We do not have leave from the baron to go anywhere else in the castle, and we will not disobey his command. I will take you to the library directly when we are finished here. My duty to the baron comes first, before everything else, even before you. Do I make myself clear?” Aaron scolded. 

Rabbit burned with frustration, grinding his teeth together. He pulled on Aaron’s hand, and Aaron pulled back. 

“Do you need a comfort break?” the shire reeve asked simply. 

Rabbit shook his head no, hands tense, eyes narrowed. 

“We will return to our seats, so we do not delay the baron’s work any longer,” Aaron insisted. He pulled Rabbit back through the purple curtains, having to use most of his strength to do so. The young man was digging in with his heels, attempting to break free of the grip that Aaron had on him. 

Aaron let go of Rabbit’s wrist, expecting him to dash back through the curtains and disappear. Instead, Rabbit straightened up, smoothed the front of his tunic-shirt, and lifted his chin defiantly. Aaron continued walking towards the small platform. Rabbit followed obediently behind him. But when they got back to their chairs, Rabbit did not sit down as the shire reeve did. He walked to the baron, and knelt before him. 

“Rabbit,” Aaron hissed, pointing to the empty chair at his side.

“Ah, you’ve been arguing with each other, haven’t you? What can I do for you, young man?” the baron asked. Rabbit stared at the group of scrolls that the baron was stacking and sorting to one side with Ashleigh’s help. Rabbit’s eyes zoomed through them all in one stroke. He reached in, pulled one out, and placed it in the baron’s grip. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron demanded in a hot, angry whisper. Rabbit turned the other direction and refused to answer or even acknowledge Aaron’s question. 

Baron Rossen lifted up the scroll and examined the seal. 

“The Lady Julia?” the baron questioned Rabbit. “Which one was the Lady Julia?” 

“Rabbit,” Aaron growled. He reached out one hand at the young man. Rabbit stood up and scampered two steps out of reach before kneeling down again. He shot Aaron a frown and turned his chin away again. 

“You are certain of this choice?” the baron confirmed with Rabbit. The young man nodded vigorously. Aaron swelled with anger and rose from his seat. The baron patted him on the hand, and the shire reeve reluctantly sat back down. Baron Rossen stood up, cleared his throat, and held the scroll that Rabbit had chosen out to one of his squires who was standing nearby. 

“Will the Lady Julia come forward, please? The Baron would like to converse with her again?” the squire called out to the noisy crowd. 

“Privately,” the baron whispered to the squire.

“Privately!” the squire shouted. 

“The baron will review all requests and missives by and by,” Lord David said. The squire obediently repeated what his master had requested, shouting louder than a town crier. 

“The Lady Julia?” Ashleigh murmured to Rabbit. “Well, that is a curious choice, Master Reed.” 

“Thank you for coming. The Baron wishes to retire at this time. Thank you again,” the squire shouted, his voice echoing off every delicate stone carving that framed the highest reaches of the vast space. 

The crowd of people seeking audience milled about, muttering their frustration or disappointment to one another, discussing the curious situation with each other as they slowly dispersed. 

Rabbit was still refusing to talk to or look at Aaron. He tapped the baron on the knee, and repeated the book gesture with his hands. The baron watched him make the gesture twice, and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. 

“You want Aaron to take you to the library?”

Rabbit nodded in reply. 

“You can read?” the baron questioned. 

Rabbit shook his head no.

“But you knew which scroll belonged to the Lady Julia,” the baron reminded him. “Were you taking a guess? You did not read her name on the ribbon?”

Rabbit indicated no.

“You recognized her family crest – three bees above a field of flowers?” 

Rabbit indicated no again. Baron Rossen pulled a scroll at random from the stacks, and gave it to Rabbit.

“To whom does this belong?” 

Rabbit pulled open the scroll, stood up, turned around, and pointed at a lord with an elaborate, plumed hat. Baron Rossen selected another scroll.

“And this one?” 

Rabbit examined it for a moment, then turned the other direction. He motioned to a portly woman in a wine-colored gown, trailing three daughters and a small boy behind her. 

“If you can’t read, why would you want to go to the library?” the baron wondered. 

Rabbit bowed his head, closed his eyes, and made the book gesture again. 

“Do not be impatient, young man. Answer my question. Why do you wish to visit the library if you do not read or write?” the baron wondered. Rabbit made the book gesture one last time. “Can it be that you wish to learn?” 

Rabbit’s head bounced excitedly. 

“You have taken in who each and every one of these scrolls belongs to?” the baron asked, pointing to the pile of parchment. 

Rabbit reluctantly answered yes, and made the book gesture slowly and repeatedly. 

“Very well. It appears that you do have the capacity to learn. The library is on the third floor of the chapel tower. Follow the sound of bells, young man, and you will find the library. Ashleigh will take you there, and she will endeavor to help you.”

“Yes, my lord baron,” Ashleigh answered, rising to her feet. Aaron had risen out of his seat too.

“My lord baron, I should go with him. Ashleigh has more important tasks at hand than watching over my petulant rabbit.” 

“Lord Aaron, sit,” Baron Rossen commanded. The shire reeve planted himself back in his chair. “Ashleigh, if you please?” the baron repeated. 

“Yes, my lord baron,” the young woman bowed to him, and faced Rabbit. “Follow me, Master Reed.” 

Rabbit raced away through the crowds of people. Ashleigh could barely keep up with him. Aaron bit his mouth closed as he watched Rabbit exit the room, running full speed towards the nearest staircase. Whispers were beginning among those milling around. Ashleigh tried to maintain a measure of dignity as she picked up her long, draping skirts a little above the ankle and hurried after him. 

“My, but you look very surly,” the baron prodded Aaron with a chuckle. 

“He was the one having a tantrum,” the shire reeve pouted. 

“What were you arguing about? How on earth do you manage to argue with someone who can’t speak?” the baron mused. 

“He does try my patience, mute or not,” Aaron pouted more. 

“Your Rabbit is a willful one, isn’t he? Rather a temper when he wants something badly enough, and you have the temerity to refuse him. Did you see that sparkle of anger in his eyes when you told him no? Good for you for being able to say no, but oh, he is not accustomed to being told no often, is he?”

“If he can’t read, why does he want to go to the library?” Aaron grumbled.

“Clearly he wishes to learn. Perhaps you should take the opportunity to teach him, rather than argue with him. Why is there no sign of Lady Julia yet?” the baron asked his squire. 

“One of her men delivered the message, my lord baron. The lady herself was never present,” the squire explained. 

“Where is her man?” 

“He slipped away hours ago, having believed his task was completed, no doubt.”

“Very well. Send a messenger to the Lady Julia’s home, and tell her that the baron requests her presence at her convenience.” 

“Yes, my lord baron.” 

Through the flurry of people leaving the Great Hall, one figure came pushing her way back through the assembled crowd. Men could not tear their eyes off of her, and women all gasped before covering their husbands’ eyes. 

“For the love of life and all that is holy, would someone please tell me what in the nine hells is going on around here?” 

A gasp rushed through the emptying hall as the Lady Prentiss stomped her way up the delicate carpeting to the raised platform, her fury burning as brightly as the sun. She was wearing her trousers again, and cussing like a long-shore man. 

“Oh,” Aaron murmured, flushing with chagrin. He realized he had forgotten all about his promise to meet her in the Occoquan.

“Oh!? Is that all you have to say for yourself?! Master Reeve, I have been waiting in the Occoquan for word from you, and do you know what I have heard?” 

“Nothing,” he admitted, shrinking down in his seat. 

“NOTHING!? That is exactly what I have heard from you! NOTHING on top of NOTHING, with a heaping side of NOTHING!”

“Forgive me. I can explain…..” Lord Aaron whispered, giving the baron a sideways plea for help. Baron Rossen grinned brightly at his shire reeve, and left him dangling.

“In all my years I have never been treated with such disdain, with such rudeness, with such arrogance!”

The Lady Prentiss paused for a deep breath, and her word stuck in her throat. She calmed herself, faced the grinning baron, and bowed to him. 

“My dear sir, forgive me for interrupting. You appear to have a large number of guests today.”

“Official audiences are over. You have interrupted nothing, Madam Reeve. Carry on.” 

“Sir, I apologize if I have caused a disruption.” 

“You’re like a welcome ray of sunshine in a dull and gray day. My shire reeve could use a good reaming out as it is. Yell at him all you like, Lady Prentiss. You may take a whip to him too, if you have one handy.” 

“Sadly, I do not. You tease me in jest. My lord baron, I do apologize for my intrusion, and if my actions are unseemly.”

“I would not say unseemly.”

“You would not, my lord baron?” Aaron sounded wounded. 

“No, Aaron. I find her actions, and your reactions, rather marital in nature,” the baron smiled wickedly. “I hold out hope for the two of you!”

“My lord baron!” Aaron frowned. 

“Sir, if you please!” the Lady Prentiss remarked. 

“Perhaps you could get to your reason for charging in here like a knight with bee in his helm?” Aaron suggested angrily to the Lady Prentiss. 

“News has not reached you yet?” 

“No. News of what?” 

“John Grosbeak.”

“What of him?” Baron Rossen asked. 

“Has he fled to the Occoquan to avoid justice?” Aaron demanded.

“He has fled, Lord Aaron, but much further than the Occoquan. He did not avoid justice though.”

“How far has he gone?” Aaron fretted. 

“He is here and yet he is gone as well, my lord.” 

“Speak plainly!” Aaron shouted. 

“He has hanged himself, my lord.”

“Hanged himself?” Aaron stammered. “Are you sure?” 

“I come to you directly after examining his earthly remains. Dead he is, sir, found swinging from the rafters of his room at the inn where he took refuge,” the Lady Prentiss reported. 

“How long has he been dead?”

“Since he stopped breathing,” the baron interjected. Aaron shot him such a look, and Lord David cackled happily. 

“At least a day, perhaps longer,” the Lady Prentiss replied, fighting a smile. 

“What of his companions? The two young rabbits who were in his company?” Aaron asked. 

“Gone,” the Lady Prentiss added. 

“Take me to him,” Aaron demanded.

“Aaron, where are you going?” Baron Rossen frowned. 

The shire reeve paused mid-step, standing down from the platform with a thump.

“To examine John Grosbeak’s remains.” 

“I expressly told you that you were not allowed to work this crime.”

“My lord baron, I am your shire reeve. There is a dead man in your barony, and it is my duty to examine him and give my pronouncement of the terms by which he met his doom.” 

“Oh no, my good sir. You may consider yourself grounded for tonight. You will sit down here, in this chamber, and wait patiently for my return,” the baron commanded.

“What?” Aaron gasped.

“Keep my chair warm. I’ll be back. Lead on, Madam Reeve.” 

“Where am I leading you, my lord baron?”

“To the body.”

“Should we not bring your shire reeve?” 

“We should not. He’s in an angry, humorless mood which will no doubt cloud his judgment. He needs a few hours to cool his temper and stop snapping at everyone around him. Luckily I am quite capable of performing his duties.” 

“Sir?” 

“I was shire reeve before he was. Would you please take me to the body, my dear lady?” 

“Sir?” Aaron pleaded.

“No. You. Sit. Stay. Keep my chair warm.”

“Should we not at least alert Ashleigh? She will worry for you,” Aaron wondered. 

“Oh, no. She’ll never let me go if you tell her where I’m headed,” the baron laughed, scooping up his cloak and dashing off behind the Lady Prentiss as she hurried for the exit of the Great Hall.


	16. How Fare You?

Part Four - Books and Words  
Chapter 16 -- How Fare You? 

 

Lord Aaron slouched in his seat in the Great Hall, watching the light wane, watching the moon rise, watching shadows chase each other across the elaborate tile flooring. Meanwhile, he was losing all feeling in his posterior. A page brought him a goblet of wine and a bite to eat. A squire inquired if he needed anything with which to amuse himself in the baron’s absence—a musician or a bard– to which Aaron had responded no. The day watch returned, and reported that all was clear in the village except for the discovery of the body of John Grosbeak. The night watch set out from the castle towards the village. 

Slow, dragging footsteps woke Aaron from a sound sleep. He dropped his own chin, flailed his legs, and sat up straight. Ashleigh was returning to the Great Hall on tired feet. She yawned broadly and pulled herself step by step towards the bored shire reeve.

“Good evening, my lord. How fare you?” she asked. 

“Good evening, fair lady. I am not well.” 

“What ails you, Master Reeve?” Ashleigh asked hoarsely.

“I suffer.”

“In what manner do you suffer, Master Reeve? Why do you not reply?” 

“I know not how to respond. I cannot decide which malady ails me more.”

“List these maladies, and I will help you decide,” Ashleigh offered as she collected her cloak from her chair where it had rested since this afternoon. 

“I have a great numbness in my backside because of this chair, and a great numbness in my heart because I worry about those I love, and beyond that, a great numbness in my brain as well, because the entire day has been an exercise in boredom, to be frank.” 

“Having to choose between your buttocks, your heart, or your brain, which injury pains you the most?” 

“I should say my brain, but my heart protests, and yet my buttocks shriek calamity far louder than the other two combined.”

“Why have you not left the Great Hall?” 

“Baron Rossen commanded that I wait here until his return.”

“Where has my lord baron scampered away to?” 

“He has taken it upon himself to perform my duties as shire reeve, in examining the dead body which was reported to him.” 

“Ah. He is having a small adventure? Good for him!” 

“He is, madam. He intimated that you would not approve if you knew, or I would have briefed you before his departure.”

“I do not disapprove, Master Reeve. I do strongly encourage this. My lord baron worries that I find mischief foolish in a man of his age, but truth be told, it is the mischief of youth which will make an old man feel young again.”

“Do you mind if I rise and stretch?” 

“Why do you ask my permission? I am neither a lady, nor the baron’s wife. You need not treat me with such formal courtesy, Master Reeve.”

“Every lady deserves to be treated with formal courtesy. I do not mean to contradict you, but you hold more sway than you realize. The baron often takes you into consideration when making his decisions. As his companion, he holds you in very high regard.” 

“I am more a nurse than a companion. He seeks my approval in many things, and yet they are things that matter not.” 

“Such things as?” 

“When he goes to bed, when he wakes up, what he wears, what he eats. Does this tunic match these pants? I am nurse and mother, and rabbit as needed.” 

“You serve a pivotal function to the lord baron.”

“As do you, Master Reeve,” Ashleigh bowed sleepily to Aaron. “Where has he gone again?” 

“To examine the corpse of John Grosbeak.” 

“Dead then, your criminal?” 

“It would seem so.”

“Curious.” 

“How so? It would not be the first time that a wanted man took his own life to avoid being made an example before the barony.” 

“If I were being threatened with having my entrails unstrung or my neck pulled long, I might consider self-harm. But are you sure that’s how he died?” she asked.

“The Lady Prentiss reported that he hanged himself.” 

“That would not be my first choice.”

“What would be your first choice?” 

“As my mother before me, I would sip deep of the sweetest poison, and lie myself down in the reeds.” 

“Your mother committed self-murder?” 

“She was betrayed by my father, and her broken heart drove her to madness.”

“How old were you?” 

“Fifteen.” 

“Not so long ago?” 

“Oh, Master Reeve, you flatter me. This was more than half my life ago, though I do remember it like yesterday.”

“I would not have guessed you were more than thirty. The Baron thinks you are barely twenty. By and by, my dear lady, where have you left my Rabbit? Did you take him to the library? Did he find a book that pleased him?” 

“Your rabbit led me on a merry chase through the castle to the chapel tower. When at last he found the library, he found book, upon book, upon book, and he was very pleased indeed.” 

“Book upon book upon book? He found three that he liked?” 

“He found three and twenty. I helped him carry them back to your apartments.” 

“Three and twenty? That’s almost the entire library. What sort of books pleased him?” 

“All the books pleased him greatly. His selections were random and varied.”

“But he can’t read.”

“If I might venture a guess, Master Reeve, I believe he knows the words, he has heard the words, but he has not seen the words. He does not have a formal education.”

“How do you know this?”

“It happens often where I am from. A man may be very intelligent but not be able to read a single written word. The most important man around is the town crier who spreads the news by word of mouth. Master Reed bid me read to him, and show him each word in turn.” 

“You read him three and twenty books this day?” Aaron goggled at her in amazement. Ashleigh yawned again. 

“No, my lord. I read him four books, but I had barely closed the back cover before he opened the front cover to devour them again. Once he had the knack of it, he whipped through the pages with most amazing speed. You may yet find him at that task once you return to your apartments.”

“I would run and fetch you hot tea for your throat, but alas, I am not permitted to leave until the baron returns.” 

“I will make my own tea when I am in my rooms again. Master Reeve, I am certain the baron did not mean for you to actually sit there until his return. He would not be angry if you returned to your quarters to sleep. The midnight hour approaches.” 

“He was in a mood. I do not wish to vex him.” 

“Retire to sleep, Master Reeve, and I will vouch for you when the baron returns from his gruesome adventure.”

“Gruesome though the task is, I confess I am disappointed he did not give me leave to go with him.”

“He could not and should not.”

“Why not?” 

“You gave your word to the Lady Eleanor that you would have no further dealings with the pursuit against John the Nose. If you were to break that word, what would the villagers think of you?” 

“That I am not afraid of Mistress Frogga.”

“You and I both know you are terrified of the Lady Eleanor, and what’s more, she knows this too,” Ashleigh smiled. “You are not alone,” she promised more softly. “She freezes my blood, the way she can look at you, and read every bit of mischief you have ever conducted. Luckily, you have been kept busy all the day, with an abundant number of witnesses who might swear that you were here.” 

“Why is that lucky or necessary?” 

“If there were to be a formal inquest, you have people who can testify that you have been here at the castle, performing your duties for the baron, while John the Nose was being hanged.” 

“But he hanged himself, dear lady. Why would I need an alibi?” 

“You cannot believe for one second that John Grosbeak killed himself, can you?”

“Why would I not?” 

“Why in the world would he kill himself?” 

“Because the law was in pursuit of him, and he was seeking to avoid justice. For the record, no one threatened him with unstringing his entrails or having his neck snapped. I made it clear that I wished to speak to him, and that is all. For him to go to this extreme, such a rash action in response, it speaks to his guilt as far as I am concerned.” 

“The Lady Eleanor swore to you he is innocent. Did she not tell you he was but the pawn of a more powerful man?” 

“Be that as it may…..”

“The fact that she vouched for him is very important.”

“Why is that important?” Aaron asked, but even as the words were out of his mouth, he was answering his own question. “Frogga can proclaim that John the Nose is innocent, because she knows who is actually to blame. She knows who this powerful man is.” 

“How convenient for that powerful man that John the Nose is no longer? With your criminal dead, there is no witness who may speak to the link between the deaths and the man responsible.” 

“No, my lady. You are wrong. By defending John the Nose’s innocence before those assembled in this castle, Frogga Ironeye made it clear that she too is a witness. She may have put herself in mortal jeopardy.” 

“Where are you going?” Ashleigh asked as Aaron raced towards the entrance of the Great Hall, the doors open wide to the lobby before. 

“To summon a guard to fetch the night watch!”

“Why?” 

“To ask them to bring Frogga Ironeye to Castle Rossengild.”

“Why?” 

“To protect her from harm, of course. What if this man should seek to silence her as he has silenced John the Nose?”

Ashleigh grinned, “Master Reeve, can it be you do not wish to see the Lady Eleanor come to harm?” 

“Of course I don’t want to see her come to harm,” Aaron insisted. 

“Good man!” Ashleigh called after him.

“Guard! Guard!” Aaron shouted. 

“Poor bastard,” Ashleigh murmured as she followed in Aaron’s footsteps, pulling on her cloak against the chilly night. 

“Why poor bastard?” Aaron asked.

“Any man merits pity who would be charged with trudging through the swamps tonight in search of such a fell mistress as she,” Ashleigh answered as she headed slowly up the stairs and to bed for the night.


	17. Words, Words, Words

17 -- Words, Words, Words

 

After sending a guard to find the night watch, to send the night watch to summon Frogga Ironeye to Castle Rossengild, Aaron decided he had better head to his apartments and check on Rabbit. Master Reed. ‘Master Fussy-Pants, more the like,’ Aaron thought darkly to himself as he unlocked the door and headed inside. 

All was still and quiet. The door to the tower stairs was open, and a cold icy wind was rushing through the rooms. Someone had attempted to start a fire in the fireplace but the efforts had been for naught. The brisk winds had stilled all but the heartiest embers. It was clear Rabbit didn’t have much experience building a fire. Aaron’s bedcovers had been turned back for him. A wide assortment of books in all shapes and sizes were laid out on his desk, and spread all over Rabbit’s bed as well. All of Aaron’s notes on John Grosbeak were tossed around and riffled through as well. The satchel they had been contained in was missing though. Someone, three guesses who, had grabbed every last piece of clean parchment on Aaron’s desk, commandeered his inkwell, and snapped his best quills into fragments. What was Rabbit doing? Had he lost his mind? 

The moment that Aaron closed the outer door and stepped onto the stone tiles, there was a flurry of movement on the tower stairs. The upper door slammed. The cold winds were stilled. Boots pattered down the steps. Rabbit emerged into the apartments and slammed the second door as well. He rushed over to Aaron and threw both arms around him, burying his head in Aaron’s chest. 

“Oh, ho, ho, is that the best apology you have for me? You aren’t getting off that easily,” the shire reeve warned, although he could not resist putting his arms around Rabbit, enjoying the feel of having him close. His emotions were calming now. All his anxiety was dissipating, being close to his Rabbit again. 

The young man landed a quick kiss on Aaron’s mouth, and scurried around the room anxiously. He dug into the satchel, which he was now wearing over one shoulder against his opposite hip. He snatched out a small square of parchment, slapped it hard against Aaron’s desk, and pulled out the ink well too. Except that the ink well had been turned into a most curious contraption. There was a nib held fast in the mouth of the slender bottle. Rimmed round the edge of the ink well was a gooey red substance not unlike the wax used to seal scrolls or letters. Rabbit’s fingertips were red. He had dabs of red on his face. His hands were also covered in spots and drops of black ink and red wax.

Rabbit upended the ink well, tipped the quill nib to the small square of parchment, and wrote Aaron’s name on it in slow, pain-staking letters. He presented the square to the shire reeve, and smiled broadly. 

“Yes. My name is Aaron,” the shire reeve nodded slowly. “Good boy.” 

Rabbit bounced in place on quick feet, kissing him again. 

“No. You must stop that at once. You are not allowed to be adorable, not when I am mad at you. What a tantrum you had in the Baron’s Great Hall, in front of all those people! Rabbit, stand still.” 

Rabbit put down the ink well and nib combination, and flipped through several open books to varying pages. Aaron followed as Rabbit pulled another square of parchment from the satchel, and slowly wrote two words. He handed the square to Aaron, staring intently at him.

“Help. Doctor,” Aaron read. He gasped, dropped the square on the floor, and seized Rabbit by both shoulders as dread alarm coursed through him. “Do you need the court physician? Are you hurt? What’s the matter? Who hurt you? Are you bleeding? Is that…. What?” Lord Aaron raced through the sentences, and stopped when he realized Rabbit was shaking his head in annoyance. “What?” Aaron asked again. 

Rabbit retrieved the small square of parchment from the floor, and dramatically, slowly printed two more words. His printing was unskilled, uneven, and child-like.

“No. Me.” Aaron read the words and blinked in confusion. “Not you? You do not need a doctor? Does someone else need the doctor? What are you trying to say? I don’t understand.” 

Rabbit pointed to himself again several times. Aaron was oblivious to the gesture. He gently peered under Rabbit’s shirt, trying to ascertain if he had an injury to his ribs where he was pointing. Rabbit watched him do this, and tilted his head in complete confusion. Aaron raised his eyes to Rabbit’s face, and the young man gave a slow, sympathetic grimace. 

“What is all over you? Is that sealing wax? Is that what you used to make this… whatever it is?” Aaron asked, licking a thumb and pulling at the red dabs on Rabbit’s face. 

Rabbit tried to push the wet thumb at a distance. He was scrambling for the ink well again. Aaron took it from him, put it in a desk drawer, and took him by the shoulders to hold him in one place. Not only that, Aaron managed to get another couple of swipes with his spit-slickened thumb as he tenderly scolded his companion. 

“Listen to me. Listen. The way you acted today was inexcusable. You cannot behave like that, especially in front of other people. You must not disobey me when I give you a command. Are you listening? Do you understand? Nod if you understand.” 

Rabbit nodded, although he looked ready to bite the thumb that Aaron was wielding at him. 

“It’s a very important thing, the relationship between a master and his rabbit. You have to at least pretend that you obey me. The lords and ladies of the court won’t respect me if they see you’ve got me twisted around your finger, that I am obeying your every whim instead of the other way around. That’s not how it works. You must understand. I know you could not have acted like this with your other masters. People must perceive that I am in control. It’s very important, politically and socially speaking.”

Rabbit pointed at the desk drawer urgently. Aaron took his hand and kissed it.

“No. Put your toys away from the night. You need to listen to me when I am talking to you. I’m going to have to be much more firm with you.” 

Rabbit made a choking noise which Aaron thought might have been an attempt at a growl of frustration. He tried to dodge past Aaron to get to the ink well in the drawer, but the shire reeve held fast to him. 

“I must return to the Great Hall and wait the return of the night watch, and the return of Baron Rossen. I want you to come with me, and I want you to be on your best behavior. But first we are going to tidy up these books. You cannot leave them lying around this way. No. Stop. No. Rabbit, leave the ink well and gather up the books.” 

Rabbit reluctantly folded each of the books together. He stacked them, balanced the stack on one hip, and opened his trunk with one long set of toes.

“What are you doing?” Aaron demanded.

Rabbit paused, put his foot down, and steadied the books. His face was blank with confusion again.

“They must go back to the library. They are the Baron’s books. You may borrow one book at a time, one book only. Do I make myself clear? What if someone needs 'The Tributaries of the Potomac", or 'Wildlife of the Virgin Land', but they can’t find the books in the library because you are hoarding all the tomes here, like a great greedy dragon hoarding gold coins? Think of how disappointed they might be. Choose one book. We will take back the rest.”

Rabbit huffed at Aaron a second time, and gave him the most remarkable, adorable pout. It was really all Aaron could do not to grab him and kiss him full on the mouth. Rabbit hugged the stack closer to his chest, frowning deeply.

“One book only. The rest must be returned to the library,” Aaron insisted as he took the stack of books away from Rabbit and set them on the desk.

Rabbit reached around Aaron, and pulled open the desk drawer. He snatched up his ink well contraption, and labored through several erratic words joined from ill-matched letters.

“ ‘Stubborn beast for burden’?” Aaron read aloud. He gave a sudden deep laugh. “Are you calling me a jackass?!” he exclaimed. 

Rabbit seized on the word. He thrust the ink well into Aaron’s hand, and pointed to the parchment. 

“I am not going to show you how to spell it,” Aaron laughed louder, taking the ink well away and putting it in the drawer again. Aaron was laughing even as he pulled the satchel off of Rabbit’s shoulder, and tucked it under the desk. “Pick up all the books. Let’s go,” the shire reeve ordered, struggling to keep a stern expression even as laughter boiled up in his chest.


	18. The Lady Eleanor's Green

18 -- The Lady Eleanor's Green

 

“Which book did you select?” Aaron asked as he settled himself back into his chair on the raised platform in the Great Hall. Rabbit dropped into his own chair with a quiet snivel. He was hugging a single book to his chest, darting his eyes around as if concerned someone might yank it from him. When Aaron made a motion to do exactly that, Rabbit ducked out of his chair and crouched down behind it.

Aaron leaned sideways so he could peer around the chair at Rabbit. The young man was curled up in a tight ball. Sympathy flooded over Aaron. He reached over and tucked Rabbit’s long hair behind one ear for him.

“I’m not going to take your book away,” he soothed.

Rabbit was not at all convinced by these kind words.

“Let me read to you. It will help pass the time until the baron returns.”

Aaron scooted to the far side of his chair, and patted the remaining space.

“Sit with me, and I will read to you.”

Rabbit wasn’t feeling very trusting at the moment. The shire reeve attempted a soothing smile. Rabbit’s amber eyes only narrowed with more suspicion.

“Let us make friends again. You will stop behaving like a spoiled child, and I will stop behaving like a jackass. How does that sound?” Aaron cajoled. 

Rabbit fussed with the linen strip wrapped around his wounded fingertip as a means of avoiding looking at Aaron. 

“Come sit with me,” Aaron invited again, softening his voice. 

Rabbit climbed up, sat in his own chair, and relinquished the book to his master. He curled his legs up on the fluffy cushion. He rested an elbow on the armrest, and cupped his chin in one hand. He stared at Aaron, radiating annoyance and irritation, and adorability as well. Aaron reached out and patted him on top of the head. 

“Well, that’s a start, least ways.” 

The shire reeve caressed the fabric-bound book, studying the tiny, ornate illumination on the front cover. There were thick-trunked trees, winding ivies, climbing rose bushes, and vines of morning glories. A very small black cat was dancing through the greenery, followed by an orange fox. Antlers were barely visible among the vines and trees, and a pair of eyes suggested a hidden face too. The long train of a green dress dotted with wildflowers was disappearing off to the side. One thin foot was visible, and that was all. 

“Oh!” Aaron murmured, a nostalgic smile taking over his face. “Fancy that! I know this book well. We are old, dear friends.”

Aaron opened the cover, turning to the title page and the first illustration. Each leaf that turned revealed decorative, elaborate printed text on one page and an illumination on the other page, with a tissue-thin page between to keep the artwork from bleeding out into the text. 

“You could not have made a better choice. When I was learning to read and write, the baron and I spent many an hour with this very book.”

Aaron lifted the tome and turned it around, showing Rabbit the panel that accompanied the title page. A small girl was chasing a rabbit on the thin path running through a primordial forest. She has long, black hair, and was wearing a green dress woven with wildflowers. The cat and the fox were on either side of her, and the stag was guarding the path for her. Rabbit devoured the drawing with his eyes. Aaron turned to the second illustration, which showed the same forest covered in heavy snow, and a dilapidated shack lost deep in the middle. A thin wisp of smoke rose from the chimney of the shack. 

“ ‘Childe of the Wood was born on a cold, snowy night in the middle of winter. As the flakes fell, and the drifts piled high, and the icy winds howled and raged through the trees, Childe took her first breath, and her poor dear mother took her last’,” Aaron chanted, using a slow, measured pronunciation for each word. 

Rabbit brightened, sitting a bit straighter in his chair. Clearly Aaron had a captive audience. He stretched the words out even more slowly. 

“ ‘There was no midwife present, nor a father, nor a grandmother, nor a sister, nor a friend—not even a holy man—to bear witness to Childe’s birth and her mother’s death. Her mother lived only long enough to lay Childe in her cradle before the small fire. Childe cried out into the night for comfort and for food. As the storm began to clear, and the stars twinkled through the fabric of the night, there came a tapping on the door of the humble shack in the woods’.”

Aaron took a breath, turned the page, and showed the next illustration to Rabbit. He could not have been more pleased. The young man’s eyes fairly glowed with interest. Rabbit reached for the page with fingers speckled with black ink and red sealing wax. Aaron pulled the book out of reach. 

“No, no, no. Dirty hands,” Aaron warned. Rabbit held back, not wanting to harm the glorious illuminations. He bounced from his own chair into Aaron’s chair, burrowing in close next to him. Aaron fought with a smile as he slung one arm around Rabbit’s slender hip and nosed a kiss into his silken hair. 

A great and almighty calamity made Aaron drop the book and leap to his feet. He drew his sword with a loud hiss. Rabbit dropped back between the two chairs. Aaron stomped down off the platform as a rushing howl raced through the castle corridors and burst forth into the Great Hall itself. The conglomeration was composed of roiling water, twisted knots of green, slimy plants and aquatic debris. It was not unlike a flash flood Aaron had once witnessed after a heavy rain, except that this was a self-contained, rolling disaster. The autonomous flood burst through the open doors of the Great Hall and launched itself forward, drenching everything it touched. 

From the gargling water emerged a twisted form and a cypress staff. Rabbit hopped forward and snatched up the precious book before the sloshing green flood could touch it. He tucked the tome into the wide belt at his waist, and sat in Aaron’s chair with his feet off the floor. 

“Who dares to disturb my slumber? Who sends his knights to drag me from my bed?!” Frogga Ironeye howled in anger. As she came to a standstill, the murky water she had rushed in on splashed across the tiles, then pulled back to leave traces of algae and brownish slime in its wake. A confused snake went one way, and then the other before heading back towards Frogga. The baron was not going to be happy when he saw this floor again, Aaron was sure of that!

“Mistress Frogga, forgive me. I am the one who asked the night watch to summon you to Castle Rossengild. I fear for your mortal safety,” Aaron said, sheathing his sword and bowing to the furious sorceress. 

Frogga wailed out, her hair flying around her, her one eye burning red like heated steel. “Who are you to summon me?!” she shrieked. The flood waters were receding back towards her, pooling around her on the floor before retreating into the fabric of her cloak and dress. The snake slithered under her hem.

“Forgive me for disturbing you. I do not wish to see you to come to harm.” 

“I was safe and warm in my own bed, Master Reeve. No harm will ever come to me there,” Frogga growled. Aaron imagined that her home likely was well-guarded indeed. What sort of trials and traps had his men had to pass through in order to get into Frogga’s lair? 

“What have you done with the night watch?” Aaron asked, wishing he could vanish the frightened tremble in his voice. People were beginning to gather outside the open doors of the Great Hall – there seemed to be a pair of goggling eyes in every empty space. Aaron drew himself up tall and tried to maintain at least a modicum of dignity. He could face down killers, beggars, thieves, and pirates, and not bat an eye in concern, but when it came to this warped old crone, he felt powerless with fear. 

Frogga threw open the right side of her cloak, and spread one long, thin hand out wide into the air. A score of bullfrogs went flying. They clattered noisily as they landed on the tile floor. Each was wearing a silver helmet and chest plate. Tiny leather boots adorned their crooked legs. 

“Mistress Frogga, what have you done?” the shire reeve gaped, horrified. 

Rabbit’s eyes were gleaming with amazement. The bullfrogs croaked and complained as they hopped towards the shire reeve, clamoring around his boots. Aaron did his best not to step on any of them. 

“Madam, I beg you, please release my knights! They came to you in good faith, with nothing but your well-being in mind.” 

“Did they?” Frogga hissed, spittle flying. 

“I feared for your safety. John Grosbeak is dead.”

“Of course he is!” Frogga howled.

“You aren’t surprised,” Aaron realized, deflating somewhat. 

“Certainly not. I told you before that he would be punished for his crimes, and so he has been.”

“How does this news not disturb you?” Aaron wondered.

“His death was revealed to me in a vision. I did try to warn you to stay clear of him,” Frogga sighed impatiently at Aaron. “At the moment, Aaron of Hotchner, you are the only thing disturbing me. It is not a habit that I recommend you develop, if you wish to continue living and breathing.”

“Forgive me but it was necessary.”

“Ordering the night watch to drag me from my bed in the middle of the night was most unnecessary and dangerous.”

“Madam, your life may be in danger.” 

“To live is to be in danger, Master Reeve. Now if you are quite finished irritating me, I will take my leave of you. I wish to return to my home and to my warm, soft bed. If you are wise, you will not seek to stop me.”

“Madam, I must insist that you stay where you are. Your life may be in danger. I seek only to protect you from whoever killed John Grosbeak.” 

“I do not need your protection, young man,” Frogga sneered. 

“Please, Lady Eleanor, will you accept the protection of this castle for one night? Is that too much to ask?”

“The protection of this castle?!” Mistress Frogga fumed angrily. “Are you being funny, Master Reeve? Do you dare mock me?”

“Madam, I would never mock you.” This was the point at which Aaron wondered if sending the night watch to collect Frogga hadn’t been the worst mistake of his life. Even charging on horseback against a platoon of gray-clad raiders seemed a better idea than raising Frogga’s hackles. 

“The protection of this castle?” Frogga repeated, trembles raking through her fragile frame. It was hard to tell if she was holding back laughter or heavy sobs. “You stand on the very spot where I was cursed for life, condemned to spend the rest of my days in solitude and despair, and you dare to offer me the protection of this castle?!” 

“Madam, I had… I do not mean….” Aaron stammered. 

“How many years did I plead to be allowed to return to my home? How many years did I beg on my hands and knees, only to be cast out again?”

“Madam, I am so sorry if I…” 

“Do you make merry of me, Aaron of Hotchner?”

“Madam, I beg you, do not misunderstand my intentions.”

“Do you want to spend the rest of your life crawling along the ground on your belly, shedding your skin, and dining on flies and worms?” Frogga warned, her voice growing dark and ominous indeed as her steely eye pierced him through to his heart. 

The shire reeve would have considered the words an idle threat from an angry, unstable person, but for the fact the very air in the room shifted and was sucked towards Frogga. Rabbit had felt the subtle drag too. Frogga was glistening with a rush of light that smelled of lightning and wet grass. She raised her staff, and the nebulous water droplets and shimmers of light coalesced above her wooden weapon. Rabbit bounced out of his chair, rushing to Aaron’s side. Aaron wasn’t sure what Rabbit intended to do, but the gesture did not go unnoticed or unappreciated. When Rabbit got in front of Aaron, the shire reeve was floored. Frogga and Rabbit stared at each other, and Frogga slowly lowered her staff. One thing was clear – Frogga was not going to harm Rabbit to get to Aaron. 

“Madam, belay your spells, and listen to me,” Aaron replied. “I give you my word that I do not intend to make merry of you. It is my duty to protect you. You proclaimed before witnesses that John the Nose was an innocent man. You could not proclaim that truthfully unless you also knew who was guilty.”

“The truth will reveal itself to you soon enough, Master Reeve.” 

Aaron reached out and rubbed Rabbit’s shoulder, thanking him while at the same time indicating that he could move now. Rabbit sheepishly crept back to his chair and balled up in it. 

“Mistress Frogga, it is quite possible that whoever silenced John the Nose will also attempt to silence you. I seek only to protect you,” the shire reeve replied. 

“I do not need your protection, Master Reeve. I am weary, and I need to sleep,” Frogga lamented. “I want my own bed, and I want to be left in peace.” Sorrow and loneliness crossed Frogga’s face. 

“I have only your best interests in mind, Lady Eleanor,” Aaron promised again. Frogga waved her staff slightly back and forth. Or perhaps she was wavering herself, and having trouble standing straight. She stared at Aaron and gave a slow, soft sigh as she sank against the staff. 

“Forgive me for being angry with you, Master Reeve. I see that my sharpness was unwarranted. I will concede to spending one night, and one night only. When the morrow breaks, I will depart again. All I require is a small bed, a warm fire, and a single candle to light my way.” 

“I am at your service, Lady Eleanor,” Aaron bowed. 

“A nice cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss,” the sorceress added as she leaned more heavily on her cypress staff. 

“I will fetch your tea myself,” Aaron smiled. 

“A good book too, perhaps?” Frogga’s steely eye focused on Rabbit. He pulled his cloak around himself, but it was too late. She had already spotted the tome tucked into his belt. “All the best stories should be shared, Master Reed. I do so love a good tale.” 

“If you release the night watch from your spell, Master Reed will share his book with you,” Aaron promised. 

Rabbit frowned at Aaron’s comment. 

Frogga brushed her staff through the air and chanted under her breath. One by one, each of the armor-clad bullfrogs at Aaron’s feet began to writhe and wiggle and groan and twitch. Heads and shoulders and chests popped out of the tiny frog bodies. Legs and booted feet extended out onto the floor in all directions. The smell in the room got so much worse than before. What had the night watch been dunked in? They were almost gooey. Was it algae? Aaron ran a quick set of eyes over the night watch. Each of them was drenched to the skin, with horrid, filthy water oozing out of their armor and their clothes as well. They were coughing up foam and spitting it out, moaning and groaning even louder. 

“Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Very good. Every man is here, and though they are a trifle damp, they seem none the worse for wear. Thank you, Mistress Frogga,” Lord Aaron bowed. He motioned Rabbit towards the sorceress, who was starting to slump even further where she leaned. “A promise is a promise, Master Reed. Share your book with the nice lady.” 

Rabbit approached the bent and twisted swamp witch, and reluctantly handed her the book from his belt. She handed him her staff, and pulled the tome close to her eye to examine it. Her beleaguered face warmed brightly. 

“Oh! I know this one well. Childe of the Wood. What a treasure! I would be happy to read it to you. Sit with me until I can rest again. Sleep comes and goes at my age. Like following a firefly through the marshes. She is always a step ahead of you, no matter how fast you run. You must not chase the firefly, but you must wait for her to land on you.”

“Shall I call for someone to lead you to a room?” Aaron asked as Frogga turned, and limped towards the doors. The gaping onlookers scattered wildly in every direction to get as far out of her path as possible. Aaron crossed through the staggering, stunned night watch in an effort to keep up with Rabbit and Frogga. 

“I know my way around this castle, young man,” Frogga chuckled as she headed out of the Great Hall. Rabbit trailed close behind her, carrying her staff for her. From out in the grand lobby, Frogga spoke again, “Don’t forget my cup of tea, Aaron of Hotchner.” 

Because the winding corridors were filled with curious people trailing in Frogga’s wake, it wasn’t hard to find out where she was headed. Because they were going towards the private part of the castle meant for the baron’s own family, Aaron was at first worried that Frogga meant to station herself in Baron Rossen’s own rooms, which would have been rather a rude surprise to Lord David when he returned from the village. He did have his doubts that the ancient woman could have climbed the tall tower though. 

Once he got to where he was going though, it was easy to surmise that the baron’s rooms were not Frogga’s intended destination. The curious onlookers were not streaming up either tower, but around the outskirts of the private courtyard reserved for the members of the baron’s own family. It was nestled in a nook that would only have been visible from above. 

The shire reeve had done a masterful job of balancing a tray all this way. He paused on the threshold of the hidden garden and glanced around in surprise. No one had been back here for some time. The Lady Guinevere did not frequent the place. Although she had a passing knowledge of herbs and plants, learned no doubt at the Lady Isabella’s knee, the Lady Guinevere was not one who enjoyed getting her hands dirty. The Baron surely had more important matters on his mind than this long-forgotten garden spot. Ashleigh did not come here either. She was ever at hand for the baron’s wants and needs. 

This quiet spot had been much-neglected for many, many years. The knotted, overgrown paths were hard to navigate. One had to dodge rose thorns, and hydrangea canes, and draped nooses of wisteria. Terra cotta pots had been shattered when their contents had grown too large to contain. There was a semi-circle of stones near the middle, rather in the shape of a crescent moon Aaron decided. Water did bubble up from the rusted metal rod in the center of the stone shape. The twin pergolas on either side were tight with branches. Barely a sliver of pale moonlight shone through the lattices. In the middle of the garden though, a patch of stars was visible. Frogga nudged vines and weeds aside, or perhaps they were moving out of her way as she stepped through. She was studying the miniscule slice of night above. 

Rabbit walked at Frogga’s side, letting her lean on his arm. She was clutching his book to her front, staring around her with great melancholy and delight both on her face. Her nostalgia was coalescing in the air. She spotted something familiar, and ambled towards a wooden bench which was almost concealed beneath a twisting vine.

Rabbit helped Frogga situate herself. He placed her staff in her hands, and knelt down at her feet. Frogga’s one eye was tracing everything at once. Rabbit followed her glance, wondering what she was seeing. 

“I sense that you might have a talent for plants and potions, Master Reed.”

Rabbit nodded to Frogga tentatively, giving Aaron a furtive glance. Aaron rattled as he approached with the tea tray. Frogga continued to pester Rabbit.

“You should have seen this garden as it once was. Bowers of roses, red and white and damask. Lavender and honeysuckle. Wisteria. Lilacs. Apple trees. Cherry trees. With some love and attention, it could be beautiful again. I’ll wager you could tame this jungle, could you not, Master Reed? Not that it isn’t beautiful now. Chaos serves its own purpose, does it not? If we cannot endure the chaos, how could we ever appreciate the calm?” 

Rabbit nodded again. 

“I would be most appreciative to see this garden beautiful once more,” Frogga whispered, centering her eye hopefully on Rabbit. “If you do this for me, I will grant you one wish.” 

Rabbit smiled faintly in reply, and nodded to her. 

“Do you mean to sleep in the out-of-doors, Madam?” Aaron asked as he rested the tray on the bench beside Frogga.

“Nothing that I fear walks this night, Aaron of Hotchner.”

“Is there anything that you do fear?” Aaron smiled, handing her a cup. It quivered unsteadily in her grip. She chose to let the question go unanswered, for the moment anyway. 

Rabbit’s hand rose up against Frogga’s hand in order to steady the cup. Aaron cradled Rabbit’s hand, to show that he understood he should be careful. The shire reeve lifted the tea pot, and poured with great caution. The swamp witch’s eye darted back and forth between the two men. Steam rose from the tea as it poured into the cup, swirling into curlicues like the ends of Frogga’s smile. As Aaron served Frogga, servants appeared with lanterns, which they hung from the twin pergolas and an arched arbor or two. The overgrown garden looked less frightening when given a bright glow. 

“Would you not prefer to be in a warm room with a soft bed?” Aaron wondered. 

“No. This is precisely where I prefer to be,” Frogga answered. “That will be your master returning.” 

“What?” Aaron jolted. Horse hooves echoed in the night, clattering up the incline into the castle. There was much shouting and clattering about in the guard towers.

“He has need of you, Aaron of Hotchner. You should go to him.”

“Come, Rabbit,” Aaron murmured. Frogga put a hand on Rabbit’s arm.

“Stay, Master of the Reeds,” Frogga urged, her eye focusing on Rabbit. 

“The Baron returns!” came a call from out in the corridor.

“I should….” The shire reeve stammered. 

Frogga smiled again. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Aaron. May you be repaid in kind when you find yourself in need.” 

“You are most welcome,” Aaron replied awkwardly, no doubt curious what she had meant. Rabbit made as if to rise up. Frogga put a hand on his arm. 

“Neither the Baron nor the Shire Reeve requires your presence, Master Reed. Please remain. We have so much to discuss,” the seer whispered. There was an air of unspoken command, almost a warning, in her words. Aaron felt it, and so did Rabbit. He gingerly sat back down as Frogga had requested, checking with Aaron first for his permission though. Aaron nodded his approval. 

“Master-at-Arms, post a guard at the entrance,” Aaron commanded on his way out of the secret garden. He glanced back. Frogga was opening the book again, humming softly to herself with contentment. Her hum transformed into a delighted cackle that rose into the night. “On second thought, post two guards. And rouse a holy man from the chapel as well,” the shire reeve added as he caught the devious smile that Frogga was casting his direction as she dropped several sugar cubes into Rabbit’s teacup.


	19. John the Nose

19 -- John the Nose

 

Lord Aaron made it back to the Great Hall before Baron Rossen and the Lady Prentiss could navigate the corridors with their surprisingly-large entourage. Six knights from the front guard towers were porting a wrapped bundle on their shoulders. Lord Marsh was scampering alongside Lord David, listening to the baron bark commands as he marched into the Great Hall and stopped in his tracks. 

“What in the hell happened in here?” the baron boomed, lifting his boots and marveling that the ornate tiles floors were an inch deep with ooze and algae, and strewn with bits of swamp plants and other debris. 

“You wouldn’t believe me even I could explain, my lord baron,” Aaron said, rising to his feet at his master’s approach.

“Did you drain the frog pond?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Aaron nodded. Lord David grinned brightly. 

“It is after midnight, dear boy. What are you doing down here, awake, at this hour?” 

“You bid me wait here for you.”

“Aaron, I did not mean for you to literally sit here and wait for my return. What’s the matter with you?” the baron smiled, clapping a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Never mind. I have brought you a gift.”

“A gift?” the shire reeve wondered. The six knights deposited their bundle on the raised platform.

“I wanted to see if you would concur with our conclusions,” the baron said as he motioned to himself and the Lady Prentiss. Emily was making faces as she stepped carefully through the ooze and algae. Lord David pulled back the cover over the bundle to reveal the open eyes of John Grosbeak. He had a hooked nose which dominated his slack face. He resembled nothing so much as a gaping fish. All he lacked was a sharp barb of metal in his open mouth. 

“I suppose it’s no mystery why they called him ‘The Nose’, is it?” the Lady Prentiss murmured as Aaron glanced at the body and back at the baron and the under-shire reeve.

“I haven’t seen a beak that large since Lord Weatherly took a sword pommel to the face during fencing practice. His face swelled like a melon. It was horrible. He had to have the nasal guards on all his helmets adjusted after that,” Baron Rossen commented. “What is your professional opinion, Master Reeve?” 

Aaron got down on his haunches and examined John the Nose more closely. 

“His neck.” 

“Quite expertly stretched,” the baron agreed.

“Yes, but…..”

“What troubles you?”

“Was he hanging at an angle when you found him?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“His neck is broken, but sideways, not long ways. See how the neck bones protrude to one side?” Aaron remarked. The Baron nodded, and smiled to Lady Prentiss. 

“I told you he would spot that right away.” 

“Are those hand prints?” Aaron wondered, getting closer still. “Palms along the sides of his head? That makes no sense.” 

Baron Rossen pulled the Lady Prentiss in front of himself, and gently touched both sides of her skull. 

“As such, yes?”

“Yes,” Aaron nodded, giving them a quick study and turning his attention back to John the Nose. Baron Rossen released the Lady Prentiss. 

“We believe his neck was snapped by hand, and then he was hung,” the Lady Prentiss explained. “He was not dangling when I saw him first. The inn keeper had lowered the body to the floor of the room. A ladder was used to reach the beam over which John Grosbeak had been hanging. The noose had been removed from his neck. You can see the bruising there from the rope, and yet, are they not light bruises?”

“He was incapacitated, his neck was broken, and then he was strung up from the rafter in his room, left to choke to death,” Aaron decided. “It had to have been a large man, someone with heavy hands. It would take a good deal of strength to snap his neck like that.”

“Could our rabbit blacksmith have done it?” the Lady Prentiss whispered, distraught with concern.

“You suspect Miles?” Aaron whispered back to her. She shrugged one shoulder but agreed with a quick nod. “I do not wish to think so, but I do concede, it is possible. We should verify his whereabouts. What is that smell?” 

“Smell?” the Lady Prentiss asked.

Aaron leaned down close to the corpse, and inhaled deeply. 

“Do you recall the state of his room?” the shire reeve asked Lord David and the Lady Prentiss. They stared at each other, and back at him. 

“In what sense?” Baron Rossen asked. 

“Had he slept in his bed? Had a chair been pulled askew from a table? Were there papers lying about? A goblet of wine close at hand? Where are his rabbits, the girls who were travelling with him? Has anyone seen them?”

“The girls have not been seen,” the Lady Prentiss reported. 

“The inn keeper had brought a tray of dinner to John the Nose’s room an hour earlier. He sent his lad to bring the tray back, and that’s when the body was discovered,” the baron explained. “We questioned them both at length.” 

“What did the boy say? What was the condition of the room?” 

“He did not say much. He’s a young lad, Aaron. Barely five or six. The little one was shocked by whatever he had seen. He hung close to his father’s side. The inn keeper did much of the talking.” 

“Had John the Nose consumed his dinner?” 

“He had. I saw the tray on the table in the room,” the Lady Prentiss said. “The plate was empty except for fish bones and a crumb or two of boiled potato. He smelled of malt vinegar and salt, I thought.” 

“And a little extra something, though I do not know what,” Aaron confessed, sniffing at the corpse again. “The inn keeper has surely cleaned the room by this point, hasn’t he?” 

“His wife was outside the door with a sudsy pail and a mop, waiting for us to clear out of her way,” the baron confirmed. 

“Messy eater, wasn’t he?” the Lady Prentiss commented, pointing to John the Nose’s doublet. “Malt vinegar spots.”

“Who prepared his dinner?” Aaron asked. 

“Presumably the inn keeper’s wife,” the baron answered. 

“We should preserve his jacket. Learn the composition of these stains,” Aaron suggested. 

“Remove the man’s jacket,” Baron Rossen agreed, motioning to the knights who had carried the corpse in. They all squirmed with discomfort at the command. Aaron gently loosened the wrapping (probably the coverlet from the bed in the room at the inn) and unclasped the first knotted button on John the Nose’s outer jacket. 

“Tis mistreatment of a body,” one knight whispered to the shire reeve. 

“I agree. This man has been most heartily mistreated,” Aaron replied. 

“You should give him up to the reeds as he was found,” another knight urged. 

“I’m afraid we must make an exception in this case,” Aaron answered. “If we are to catch the villain who has perpetrated this crime, then we must examine the victim for all that he might tell us.” 

“It’s indecent to disturb the body,” the knight murmured. 

Aaron rolled John the Nose on one side, and managed to work his arm from his sleeve. The Lady Prentiss went to the other side and helped heave the body the other direction. The knights scattered out of her way. 

“Fear not,” Baron Rossen soothed his dismayed knights. “At dawn’s light, we will release John Grosbeak’s body to the reeds, and let him rejoin his people, wherever they may be.”

Lord Aaron and the Lady Prentiss rolled John the Nose onto his back again. Aaron was folding the doublet. The Lady Prentiss lifted her hand, made a horrified face, and stepped back from the platform. There was brownish foam trickling from John the Nose’s mouth, and it had gotten onto the Lady Prentiss by accident. 

“Oh, sir. A linen, I beg you,” the Lady Prentiss groaned. Aaron gave her a handkerchief from his own pocket, and bent down again to examine the foam. 

“It must have been in his mouth and throat. When we rolled him over, it spilled out,” Aaron remarked. 

“Vomit?” the Lady Prentiss wondered, dabbing off her hand and a spot on her jacket. She gave him back his handkerchief. Aaron used it to sop off John Grosbeak’s damp mouth, and then he put the small square of cloth carefully inside the doublet. 

“What are your thoughts, Master Reeve?” Baron Rossen asked. Aaron stood to his feet, and helped the Lady Prentiss rewrap John the Nose’s corpse in the coverlet. 

“This is not self-murder,” Aaron insisted.

“Elementary,” the baron smiled. 

“He was poisoned, he had his neck snapped, and then he was hanged.” 

“He’s been killed three times. Someone wanted to be sure,” the baron agreed. 

“Did you turn out his pockets? Search his person for his purse? A rabbit runner and pimp would have had money on hand.” 

“I confess I did not think to turn his pockets,” the baron murmured. “Shall we unwrap him again?” 

“No need. He did not jingle when we turned him, and his waist was quiet flat. I do not believe his purse is on his person,” the Lady Prentiss said. 

“I agree. His purse is not here. Moreover, he wears neither dagger nor sword. So his coinage and his weapons are missing,” Aaron observed. 

“Was this robbery?” the Baron asked. 

“I think not. Neither suicide, nor robbery. It is murder, plain as day,” Aaron said.

“Whoever has his money and his weapons is the murderer then?” one of the knights asked. 

“No. The truth is, the inn keeper may have taken the coinage as payment for the room,” the baron commented. 

“So the inn keeper and his wife killed John the Nose between them?” another knight asked. 

“No. Being a thief does not make one a murderer too.”

“Exactly that,” the baron agreed with Aaron. 

“We do not need the money back, but it would be beneficial to know if the inn keeper took it as payment, or if the murderer took it in order to give the appearance of robbery as motive for the murder. We must verify the whereabouts of Miles the Rabbit, and we need to search for the girls who were in John the Nose’s company when he landed at the port of Quantico,” Aaron decided. 

“You will question Miles the Rabbit,” Baron Rossen directed the Lady Prentiss. “Aaron and I will question the ships around the port.” 

“I know where we should start,” Aaron answered. 

“It is too dark an hour to rouse them now. This will wait until morning,” the baron remarked, stifling a yawn. It was the first sign of sleepiness in the man since he had bounced back into the Great Hall. Aaron was delighted to see how invigorated his master had been by this. 

“In the morning, I agree,” Aaron nodded sleepily. 

“This does of course beg the question of what we should do with our guest for the night?” the Baron chuckled quietly. 

“Let us take him to Master Bottler. I should like an explanation of this murky foam,” Aaron suggested. 

“You mean to leave a corpse in his workshop without waking him?” the Lady Prentiss asked. 

“I will explain my intentions in the morning,” Aaron yawned. 

“There is no harm in it. Master Grosbeak will surely not be a demanding guest,” the baron mused.

“I almost forgot to tell you! Do not venture into the hidden garden without announcing yourself, my lord baron,” Aaron gasped. 

“Which hidden garden?” 

“The one which lies beneath the east-facing windows of your own tower. You have never noticed it before? Do you not peer out your own windows?” Aaron teased gently. 

“Oh, the overgrown plot? I had thought it was an untended graveyard. I was warned by my uncle to never go there. The doors are locked, and no one has seen the keys for decades.” 

“Why did your uncle warn you not to go there?” 

“He said that the space was cursed, because it was ripe with witchery.”

“Ah,” Aaron nodded, worry swimming over his face. “What sort of curse?” 

“Why are you suddenly so interested in the Lady Eleanor’s Green?” 

“Because the Lady Eleanor is herself ensconced there, this very night,” Aaron said. “I offered her leave to choose whichever room in the castle pleased her most, and she crossed straight to that very spot. Perhaps she has had the key all this time.” 

“You invited the Lady Eleanor to spend the night under my roof?” the Baron bellowed. “Is that what happened to the floor?” 

“Yes. The lady was quite peeved at being disturbed. But I thought it wise to bring her here, for her own safety,” Aaron murmured nervously. 

“You trudged into the swamp on a night like this?”

“I sent the night watch.”

“You sent thirteen of my men trudging through the swamps on a night like this, to retrieve the lady? To bring her here?” the baron demanded. 

“Yes. I feared that whoever did harm to John the Nose would also seek to do harm to her as well,” Aaron defended. 

The Baron was smiling, his angry pretense fading away. 

“Aaron! Well done! Such chivalry! That took a great deal of nerve!”

“The lady was not at all pleased, and I do not think she would call the act chivalrous,” Aaron frowned. 

“I imagine not! Thank you for the warning. I promise I will steer well wide of the Lady Eleanor’s Green. But for now, I do require an hour or two of sleep. Gentle Knights, do please bear Mr. Nose to the workshop of Master Bottler, and therein let him lie undisturbed until the dawn. If you please. Good lads,” the Baron ordered. “Don’t forget to wear black in the morning, Master Reeve. Good night.” 

“Good night, my lord baron,” Aaron bowed, watching the mournful train as the baron led them away. Lord Marsh and the other counselors and courtiers trailed behind. Aaron stared around and found himself alone but for the company of the Lady Prentiss.

“I do not suppose you have any other rooms for let?” she yawned. 

“The apartments next to mine are free, if you so wish?” 

“Thank you. I will gladly accept the offer. Why are they free? Do you snore loudly, Master Reeve?” 

“Tonight, I will snore very loudly, if only to make you feel at home,” Aaron smiled. “Thank you for taking good care of Baron Rossen. The evening’s adventure has made him quite lively indeed.” 

“An irony that should not go unappreciated. You are most welcome. By and by, where is your Bunny Boy?” 

“Keeping company with the swamp witch at her direct request, at least until she falls asleep.”

“Do you think that wise?” 

“I am not concerned.”

“She is a witch, Aaron. She might spirit him away.”

“I doubt it. They seem to have a mutual respect. I do not think she would do him harm.”

“You don’t?”

“I did post a guard.”

“One man against the likes of Frogga Ironeye?” the Lady Prentiss exclaimed.

“Two guards. Actually two guards and a holy man,” Aaron stammered. “What know you of the Lady Eleanor’s tale?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“You have your ear closer to the ground than I do. I hoped you might have heard tell what happened to her.”

“I know naught, I’m afraid, Master Reeve,” the Lady Prentiss whispered, following Aaron across the slimy tiles.


	20. Vita e Morte

20 -- Vita e Morte 

 

The chapel bells tolled. Aaron rolled onto his side and listened. After the initial six bells had rung, serious and solemn, another series of tiny bells pealed to announce the rising sun. This was totally unnecessary, because a trickle of light was already creeping through the apartments. The shire reeve calculated quietly – he had had around five hours of sleep. He sat up slowly, holding his head. His eyes went directly to Rabbit’s bed. 

Aaron smiled slowly at first. Rabbit had not been home when Aaron had returned in the wee hours. Now the sun’s first rays were washing over auburn curls thrown wide across the pillows. Aaron was relieved to see that Rabbit was back, and yet he could sense that something was very wrong. Aaron’s happiness turned to alarm. Rabbit was balled up on his side, rocking in his sleep, pushing his arms outwards, as if warding away invisible monsters that Aaron could not see. 

Horror filled Aaron, as his companion’s fear echoed out to him. Aaron leapt up from his bed and hurried over, dropping to his knees on the floor. Rabbit was pushing away with his arms while retreating backwards. He was kicking, even though his legs were entangled in the bedcovers. He was fighting like hell against whatever was attacking him in his dreams. 

Aaron yanked Rabbit up right. The young man struggled to scream, his mouth open wide as he fought against this new foe. He was slapping and striking at Aaron, thinking he was a corporeal manifestation of his nightmares. Aaron hauled Rabbit out of the bed, and stood him upright in the middle of the rooms on the fireplace rug, where the morning light would awaken him. Rabbit’s eyes flashed open in panic. His face was absolutely void of recognition. 

“It’s me. It’s Aaron,” his master soothed. Rabbit gazed at him blankly. Could the young man not see who it was? The shire reeve let go of Rabbit in order to light a lantern or a candle. The young man dropped to the ground with a gargled squeak. The exhalation of air had caused the noise. As Aaron hunted for a candle, Rabbit crawled on hands and knees, hiding under the heavy table. 

Aaron returned with a lighted candle. He rested the candle holder on the stones of the hearth, and climbed carefully under the table to sit near Rabbit. He reached over and stroked Rabbit’s back, his heart breaking for the young man. Very slowly, Aaron eased closer. He dotted kisses on Rabbit’s shoulder. At first, Rabbit jumped at the touch. 

Not for the first time, Aaron wondered how Rabbit had come by the bruises and bites which had covered his body. They were healing, disappearing slowly, but were not forgotten, no clearly not. Aaron wondered if the injuries might have been the result of a feeding frenzy. He had seen such things more than once in his time as shire reeve. When a vulnerable rabbit was out alone in the world, it was not uncommon for a group of antidote-starved people, those who could not afford to pay for the blood antidote they needed, to fall upon the unaccompanied rabbit like a pack of hungry wolves. Had that been what had happened to Rabbit? How long had he been out there on his own?

If a feeding frenzy explained the marks on Rabbit’s body, it had not happened long before he had found himself in the common markets. Aaron’s speculations and conclusions about Rabbit were not adding up. The scar on Rabbit’s throat was obviously much older than the bruises and bites. He had not received that scar during the attack which had left him bruised and battered. Had he been attacked more than once? If Rabbit had been the victim of a feeding frenzy, had that been how the slavers had managed to capture him in the first place? They had found him in a vulnerable state and had taken advantage of him. Or had the slavers themselves attacked Rabbit? There were so many questions, and so few answers, Aaron lamented to himself. Rabbit was in no condition to answer even simple questions at the moment. But soon, Aaron needed to start asking him serious questions. 

“It was only a dream,” Aaron soothed, his voice a low hum. He dried away Rabbit’s tears with gentle kisses. The taste of those tears was beyond compare. He fought the urge to lick, even the desire to bite.

Rabbit drew back from the touches, and though it wounded Aaron that Rabbit did not trust him yet, on another level, he understood Rabbit’s reluctance to trust too deeply, too quickly. Maybe Rabbit had seen the urges burning in Aaron’s eyes. Maybe he had felt them through the emotional connection that they shared. 

“Don’t be scared,” Aaron hummed. 

Rabbit crawled out from under the table and back up onto his bed. He was breathing through a series of noisy, messy snivels, avoiding Aaron’s questioning gaze as he fought down his emotions. Rabbit lay back down, facing the wall instead of facing the shire reeve. His shoulders were practically touching his ears. Aaron sat carefully on the edge of the bed, and stroked Rabbit’s hair. Rabbit shuddered with each touch. There was a far away look on the young man’s face. He was trying to neutralize what he was feeling. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to show his emotions. He was struggling not to feel these emotions in the first place. 

Someone pounded on the door. Aaron jumped, but Rabbit continued to gaze at the wall, his face blank. Aaron dotted an apologetic kiss on Rabbit’s shoulder, and went to answer the urgent knocking.

* * *

For Castle Rossengild and the village of Quantico, bodies of the dead were not surrendered into the Potomac River, but rather given up to the gentler current in the smaller inlet of Quantico Bay. River reeds did not grow on the banks of the Potomac, but water grasses grew in abundance in the smaller, calmer inlets.

There was none of the usual pomp and circumstance for John Grosbeak, also known as John the Nose. Shortly after dawn, Baron Rossen had visited Master Bottler, explained that they wanted an educated man’s opinion of the brownish foam that had been in the throat of the dead man. Then the corpse was washed. Two coins were placed over his eyes as payment for his passage into the next world. He was redressed in his own clothes, and wrapped up once more in the coverlet from the inn where he had died. 

A holy man from the castle chapel led the way to the water’s edge. Six knights from the guard tower were drafted to carry the corpse in its simple, woven basket. Baron Rossen, Ashleigh, the Lady Prentiss, Lord Aaron, and Rabbit trailed behind the knights, headed out of the castle for the slow walk that would take them through the village and then to the left, past the orphanage that Lady Beatrice ran, further out past the most distant houses and smallish farms, and down towards the marshy wetlands of the bay. 

One usually did not talk during this walk. They did not sing. They did not play instruments, and they did not make merry. Neither did they mourn loudly or showily. One could mourn, in private thought, without sound, without word. This quiet train grew during the forty-five minute path from castle portcullis to reedy inlet. As it passed in front of the village blacksmith’s shop, Smitty and his youngest son appeared, dressed in their finest. Miles the Rabbit fell in step behind. Aaron marked this to the Lady Prentiss with a significant glance, and she nodded in reply. Once they had reached the inlet, she would take the opportunity to draw Miles aside and speak with him. 

The silent procession crossed through the village, and it was curious the number of eyes which disappeared behind curtains and shutters just as the train of people went by. There was many an interested party. Word had spread of John the Nose’s demise. A few odd people joined the procession as it neared the docks. Sailors. Merchants. Barmaids. Hired rabbits as well. Aaron noted that the inn keeper and his family also joined the procession. There was no sign of the young girls who had been in John the Nose’s company though. It was as if the girls had been spirited away into the night. 

As the mourning procession passed in front of the orphanage that the Lady Beatrice ran, the lady herself waited on the front stoop. She curtseyed low to the Baron, and sent one of the children forward. The little boy ran over to the baron, bowed to him, and gave him a note. Baron Rossen tucked the note into his pocket, and waved again to the Lady Beatrice. 

Next came the street where the more expensive houses in the village had been built, the ones which overlooked the river and were next to the small farm which abutted the small inlet. To everyone’s surprise, the Lady Guinevere stood watching on the stoop. She was accompanied by all three of her rabbits and her ladies as well – the Lady Penelope the foremost. The group curtseyed to the baron, and blended into the procession as it moved onward towards the inlet. 

The look that passed between the Lady Prentiss and the Lady Guinevere was unfriendly, to say the least. When the Lady Guinevere maneuvered herself to be able to walk next to Baron Rossen, the Lady Prentiss made a point of switching to walk on the Baron’s opposite side, which put her next to Lord Aaron. 

Rabbit sidled closer to Aaron as well. He actively avoided the smile that the Lady Guinevere was sending towards him. He refused to even glance at her. Aaron reached out and took Rabbit’s hand, folded his hand over one forearm, and walked close beside him from that point forward. Aaron watched the sadness on Rabbit’s tired face, and fought the urge to nuzzle his cheek. 

It was only when they had passed the small farm and had reached the path that led into the inlet that the procession realized they were not the only ones giving up a body to the reeds on this chilly morning. Another mourning procession was already at the water’s edge. As was only polite, the two processions allowed room for one another. Friend greeted friend, and stranger greeted stranger, with a silent nod of the head or a handshake. 

The second one was a much smaller – a holy man stood next to the shore with a young woman at his side, while a young man had waded into the reeds, pushing the shroud-wrapped corpse ahead of himself. There was no reed basket, so this must be someone very poor indeed. The young man had his back to John Grosbeak’s procession. As the holy men made their signs over the criminal’s body, the baron motioned for his shire reeve to step forward. Aaron almost fell over himself getting into the water’s edge. His cloak wanted to tangle around the reeds. He unhooked his cloak, and gave it to Rabbit to hold. The Lady Prentiss had taken hold of Rabbit’s hand. Rabbit hugged Aaron’s cloak and stared out into the inlet. 

Aaron followed Rabbit’s eyes and wondered what he was seeing. The morning was chilly. Dew touched most of the plants – their leaves were wet and dripping. In mid-summer, these waters would be alive with mosquitos and gnats and frogs and snakes, but it was far too early in the year for that kind of activity. The occasional water bird waded on the far shore, stepping lightly through the long reeds, hunting for even a sign of a squirming tadpole or a wiggling worm. Other herons and osprey hung around in the trees on the opposite bank. 

The young woman who was standing by the holy man on the near-side of the inlet took great interest in the other gathering. She was staring round at their faces even as she dried her tears. She was young, and pretty, and well-groomed, though she was not dressed in either an expensive or showy fashion. Because her dress bore the crest of one of the village’s prominent families on the left breast, Aaron thought she might be a lady’s maid. Even from this distance, he could hear the Lady Guinevere whispering to her ladies, making light of the young maid’s hair, her face, her clothes, her gloves. The Lady Penelope was tittering most inappropriately. The baron rotated around and gave the harpies an impatient stare, and they silenced again. Ashleigh was tucked near to Baron Rossen, and she was blushing for the sake of the others’ misbehavior. 

The young man in the water turned around. Aaron was surprised to recognize his squire. Karl nodded hello to Aaron. Aaron motioned hello back without saying a word. What was Karl doing here, and who was he pushing into the water? Aaron wondered this as he guided John the Nose’s basket into the gentle current. The shire reeve waded carefully over to Karl while pushing John the Nose along. 

“Good morning,” Aaron whispered to Karl quietly. 

“Good morning, sir.”

“How fare you?” Aaron asked, his heart turning to cold ice as he worried that the body that Karl was sending off might be his wife Rose.

“I am well, all things considered. I was roused quite early from a very sound sleep,” Karl whispered back, suppressing a yawn. “John the Nose, I presume?” 

“Aye,” Aaron nodded. “We are meant to think he hanged himself. Who do you…. Who was this?” Aaron found his voice choked in his throat. He wobbled as memories of pushing Haley’s basket into this very inlet went through him like a knife. Karl put out an arm and steadied the shire reeve.

“It is not Rose,” Karl smiled slightly. “I do believe she is on the mend, and the babe as well. I am hopeful they will both make it to the presentation ceremony this month.”

“Thank the gods,” Aaron breathed.

“I confess, the medicines that I was supposed to bring to you, I have given to Rose. I hope you will forgive me, but I thought that since you had your rabbit, and that you would be on the mend, that you would not mind? The medicines have helped Rose tremendously.”

“I do not mind in the least.” 

“Thank you for being understanding that I need time to be with her.” 

“Your place is by your wife’s side until she is on her feet again,” Aaron insisted. “Who is the unfortunate then?” 

“I was roused out of my bed by calls that a maiden had been found dead. Her friend says that she drank poison out of despair.” 

“Over lost love?” 

“I think not,” Karl frowned. “She recently lost her mistress, and her job, and had no prospects, and thus….” 

“Was she named Caroline?” Aaron frowned. 

“Indeed she was. How do you know this?” 

“Is that her friend Iris on the shore?” 

“Indeed it is,” Karl nodded. 

“I should very much like to know the circumstances by which Caroline did pass.” 

“As I said, she drank poison out of despair.” 

“What manner of poison?” 

“She disguised essence of poppy in malt vinegar, and thereby masked the bitter taste.” 

“Ah. As if to dress a fish dinner?” 

“Precisely that, but how could you know what she ate for her last meal?”

“How did a disgraced lady’s maid with no money afford essence of poppy? Karl, we must compare notes at your earliest convenience. I should like to speak with Iris, if that is possible.” 

“Did the night watch not report to you on the maiden’s death?” 

“They had a rough night,” Aaron fought with a smile. 

“So I heard! Does Frogga Ironeye rest in chains deep in the castle keep?” 

“She does not. She is sleeping in her garden. We did not wake her.” 

“Are you sure she’s sleeping?” 

“Mostly sure,” Aaron frowned.

“Did you check on her?” 

“No. The Baron said he could see her from his windows, snoring and croaking, croaking and snoring.” 

“I do not follow,” Karl frowned. 

“He said that is the burden of her curse,” Aaron shrugged. “I should have thought ahead, and brought along dry clothes,” Aaron mused faintly as he studied his own wet form. 

They both turned towards the shore, wading back to their separate processions. Aaron wasn’t sure what was transpiring, only that the Lady Guinevere and the Lady Prentiss were whispering back and forth in short, sharp exchanges, giving each other evil looks. The Lady Guinevere’s three rabbits had maneuvered themselves to stand nearer and nearer to Rabbit, and he was getting closer and closer to the water, ready to launch himself into the waters and reeds of the inlet to get away from them if necessary. He did so under the guise of bringing Aaron his cloak. To be honest, when Aaron walked first onto dry land, his trousers sagging with wetness, the chill wind rushed at his damp clothes and made him shudder with the cold. 

Rabbit tossed Aaron’s cloak about his shoulders, and helped him fix the clasp. Aaron took both long hands and kissed them in thanks, giving Rabbit a grateful smile. The three rabbits gave Aaron a collective, sour stare, and sidled back over to their mistress, whose sharp exchanges with the Lady Prentiss were growing more and more heated. 

“….shameless display of your physical form. You ought to have to flog yourself for wearing those in public,” the Lady Guinevere was snipping. 

“If you’ll forgive me, my lord baron, I must attend to my duties,” the Lady Prentiss said, bowing to Baron Rossen, nodding to Ashleigh, and moving towards Aaron as he shook off the water and the cold. 

“Not at all, my dear. Carry on,” the baron responded, unfolding the note that the orphan had slipped to him at the Lady Beatrice’s request. The Lady Prentiss nodded to Aaron, and moved off to follow Miles the Rabbit as he and the blacksmith and the blacksmith’s son started the slow walk back towards the village of Quantico.

Aaron took Rabbit’s arm, and walked over to the baron, squelching with every step, amused by the sounds he was making as he sloshed and squished along. The baron dropped a handful of coins into the holy man’s grasp. They bowed to each other, and parted ways. The baron was entranced by whatever was in the missive from the Lady Beatrice. He could not put the note down. Ashleigh was standing close at hand, avoiding the harpies. Now that the lady’s maid Iris had moved away, with Karl supporting her arm and patting her hand consolingly, the ladies and the rabbits turned their cruel intentions towards the baron’s rabbit, whispering about her hair and her clothes, and her uncouth country manners. 

“What news from the Lady Beatrice?” Aaron asked softly. Fury was swelling the baron’s features, turning him a bright red as he puffed up around the neck and the face. Baron Rossen folded the small note up, pushed it into a pocket, and centered his eyes on the Lady Guinevere. She had felt the baron’s anger rising, and was prodding and poking her ladies, urging them to hurry into line to proceed away, hoping to avoid drawing the baron’s ire here and now. Baron Rossen wasn’t having any part of her attempts to escape. 

“Hold fast, Lady Guinevere. I say. Hold fast, young lady.”

“Yes, Uncle. As it pleases you,” the Lady Guinevere replied, her face frozen in a mask of politeness even as her eyes flared and danced angrily at having not been able to get away faster. 

“You have been absent from home for almost two days.”

“I thought perhaps that I should make myself scarce, as not to draw the jealousy and rage that your shire reeve has recently developed for me. He did throw knives at me, Uncle, and with no provocation whatsoever.”

“You have been busy at your second house?”

“I have numerous little projects there to keep me busy, keep me happy.” 

“Madam, I know very well how you have been keeping yourself busy. You will present yourself at the castle in my study at noon. Do I make myself clear?” 

“If it pleases you, I will of course be there, but I do not understand why your tone is so sharp and angry.” 

“Do you not, madam? Do you not? Present yourself to me at noon, Guinevere. This is most serious indeed.” 

“What is so serious, Uncle? Who has so upset you?” the Lady Guinevere feigned concern and outrage for his sake. The Baron inhaled deeply, and retrieved the missive from his pocket. 

“I am not ignorant of what you’ve been doing, Lady Guinevere. I do not wish to make a public spectacle of a private, family matter. As I said, present yourself to me at noon. Do not be late.” 

“Is that a message from the Lady Beatrice?” the Lady Guinevere clipped off her words. 

“It most certainly is,” the baron clipped his off as well. He took Ashleigh by the arm and walked past the Lady Guinevere and her ladies and her rabbits. Aaron and Rabbit had to hurry on fast feet to keep up with the baron as he stomped his way along the path which led back to the village. 

“My lord baron, is there anything I can do?” Aaron asked as they finally fell step in step with Baron Rossen. 

Lord David was muttering unhappily to himself. 

“I must make a stop before we return to the castle. I know you wish to speak with Miles, and also the lady’s maid who was in Karl’s company. I would not keep you from your duties as shire reeve, but if I could beg that you make haste when questioning those two in the village. Return to the castle as swiftly as you can. I need you by my side for what I must do.”

“I am at your service, my lord baron, for whatever you may require of me. The Lady Prentiss has Miles well in hand, by the looks of it,” he pointed ahead of them, where the Lady Prentiss had Miles by one arm, and was conducting a quiet talk as they proceeded along the dirt path towards the cobblestones of the village. 

“What of Iris the maid?” the baron asked. 

“Karl will knows that I wish to speak with her. He will make that request known to her. After I have questioned Iris the maid, I am at your service.”

“Good. I am more glad for that than I can express. Ashleigh and I must stop ahead. The Lady Beatrice is expecting us.”


	21. Iris and the Lady Florence

Part Five - Kith & Kin  
Chapter 21 -- Iris and the Lady Florence 

 

“It’s all my fault,” Iris whispered, touching a handkerchief to her nose and shaking her head. “I’ve known Caroline, I knew Carrie, since we were this small. Dragging our dolls by one arm. Pushing reeds boats along the inlet shores with sticks,” she sniffled. 

“How is this your fault, Miss Iris?” Karl questioned gingerly. He gave Aaron a tentative look. The shire reeve had followed Karl and Iris to the home of her employer, the Lady Florence. The mistress of the house had directed them through the foyer and into the small courtyard in the interior. Morning light spilled over a clipped and tidy garden and small benches. Lord Aaron had kept quiet and let Karl do all the questioning, and so far, the young man had been very keen with his interrogation.

“I gave her money yesterday. Carrie knew when I would be running errands for my lady, and she stopped me a couple blocks away. She looked haggard, and like she hadn’t slept. But she was cheerful. Unusually cheerful. She said everything was looking up. She had had an offer from an actual gentleman, that’s what she called him, to come work for his invalid wife. I don’t know why she lied to me. She told me the money was for a new dress, because she didn’t want to arrive looking tawdry. I didn’t guess what she had in mind. I never thought…..I never thought….she would do this.”

“How did the innkeeper at the Misty Morn know to contact you?” Karl asked. 

“Carrie had a note in her hand with my name and my lady’s name on it.”

Iris wrinkled her brow and glanced away, sniffing again. Karl seized on this at once.

“That struck you as strange, didn’t it?” 

“Well, to be honest, sir, it did, it did indeed,” Iris confessed. 

“You were friends with Caroline. She knew where you were. Why would she need to write your name and your employer’s name down?” Karl asked. 

“Exactly that, sir. Odd, it was. And curious too.” 

“Was the note in Caroline’s handwriting?” Aaron spoke up quietly. He was watching with one eye as the Lady Florence walked Rabbit around her garden, speaking quietly to him about this plant and that plant. Even though there was the chill of winter still in the air, with the sun shining down this morning, it was almost beginning to feel like spring might be here soon. The Lady Florence was an avid gardener, and eager to talk to Rabbit about her plants. Rabbit was hanging on her every word, and the lady was very flattered by the attention he was paying her. She was cradling his hand in her own, walking slowly through the knot garden. 

“I couldn’t say, sir,” Iris replied. 

“Why not?” 

“We never corresponded, as it were. Carrie and I saw each other often. We spoke to each other. She and I was both in and out of the village all the time. We would talk, or send a lad with few words. We never wrote to each other. I didn’t know Carrie could read or write. We never had proper schooling when we were little. We could write our names, surely, because you have to be able to do that to sign a contract to work for a lady or a lord. All of us learned to write our names when we were small. But beyond that?” Iris shook her head as she spoke. 

“Could it be that the Lady Rosalind taught Caroline how to read and write while she was in her employ?” Karl asked. “There are ladies who do insist that their maids can read a grocery list or compose a quick message for them.” 

“Oh, I think not, sir,” Iris smiled. “Lady Rosalind was a kind soul, and a wonderful person, but she herself was not much for schooling. She wouldn’t have made Carrie learn to read and write. The Lady Rosalind, she knew a lot about sailing, could tell you every part of a ship from barnacle to crow’s nest. The Lady Rosalind loved the sea, but she was none too skilled with poesy and all of that. It wasn’t in her blood, Carrie said, and that’s what made them fast friends. The Lady Rosalind never looked down on Carrie or anyone else who couldn’t read or write.”

“Who put the note in Caroline’s hand then?” Karl asked Lord Aaron.

“Who indeed?” Aaron murmured in reply. “You don’t happen to know what became of this note, do you?” he asked Iris. The maid pulled out her tiny, draw-string purse, and tugged open the top. She pulled a small, folded square out of the leather pouch and gave it to Karl, who handed it to his master.

“The boy from the inn brought it to me when he delivered the news that Carrie had done herself in,” Iris explained. 

“Thank you, Iris. I’m sorry again for your loss,” Karl whispered to the young woman. She nodded her thanks, and rose to her feet. 

“May we call on you again if we have any further questions?” Aaron asked. 

“Only if you bring this charming, young man with you, Master Reeve,” the Lady Florence responded. She walked Rabbit back over to them, and reluctantly handed him over to Aaron. 

“I will, my lady, as it pleases you,” Aaron murmured, fighting the urge to take Rabbit’s arm, or take his hand, or demonstrate in one way or another that he already had an owner, keep your hands off, thank you very much. 

“Don’t forget now. You put those in good, dark soil. You keep the pot in a sunny spot, and don’t overwater it. They’ll spring up in no time,” the Lady Florence was instructing Rabbit as they headed for the door. Rabbit pulled a small quantity of seeds in a small pouch out of his pocket, examined the calico fabric, and put it back in again. 

“Thank you for your time,” Aaron said at the door, bowing once more to the Lady Florence and to Iris as well. He tugged Rabbit off the stoop when the Lady Florence reached out at him again. Rabbit almost tripped over his own feet in an effort to keep up with Aaron as the shire reeve stomped to the next corner and waited for Karl to say his goodbyes. 

Karl hurried to catch up to them. Rabbit was walking along, eyes ablaze with amusement at Aaron’s grumpiness. He reached out and took the shire reeve’s hand, curling their fingers together. There was a deep horn blowing down by the water. Aaron watched Rabbit turn to watch the tall masts of the ships in the harbor. One of them was making its way away from the port, slowly navigating out towards the bay. Rabbit seemed to want to tug the shire reeve in the direction of the docks. Aaron tugged back and held firm. 

“My lord, who do you think wrote the note that was found in Caroline’s hand?” Karl asked as he caught up to Aaron and Rabbit. 

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Aaron smiled in reply. “We’ll walk you to your door, and head back to the castle from there.”

“Oh, Rosie will be embarrassed if you do that,” Karl laughed. “She’s a-bed, hasn’t done her hair. You know how Rosie is about her hair.” 

“It’s one of the reasons you fell in love with her, as I recall,” Aaron murmured in reply, his eyes falling on Rabbit’s locks at the back of his neck. 

“That, and her cooking, and her eyes of blue. 'Rosie, Rosie, with your eyes of blue. Tell me, tell me, that your love is true. Over hill and dale I’ve wandered, lonely. In search of love, my one and only. Far from home, so far from…' Sorry,” the young squire laughed a little when he noted that Rabbit’s head snapped around in surprise. “My singing leaves a lot to be desired, I know,” Karl chuckled. 

Rabbit’s pleasant smile had faded away. He sucked in his bottom lip and tucked his head down. 

“Let me hurry on ahead and warn Rosie you are going to say hello. See you in a few minutes.” 

Karl ducked into a side alley, raced through a courtyard, and walked through an open gate that led to another street. Aaron moved slowly up the cobblestones, and cradled Rabbit’s hand. 

“Hey there, now. Tell me what’s wrong,” the shire reeve murmured. Rabbit gave him a terribly sour glare. “Forgive the choice of words. What is it about the song? Do you know it? Is it familiar to you?”

Rabbit nodded reluctantly. 

“That’s a song you would not have heard in these parts of the Virgin Land. It’s more a westerly song than an easterly song. The local shanties here tend to be about sailors, the sea, the salt life, as they call it. Beautiful native maidens. The occasional buxom mermaid.” 

Rabbit’s chin dropped further. Aaron reached out to caress his boyish features. Was it foolish that he so looked forward to their morning rituals? The cheeks he had shaved smooth were now damp with tears. 

“We’re going to have a long talk, when we have a moment or two to ourselves.”

Rabbit sniffled and lifted his face, nodding to Aaron slowly. 

“I want to know more about you. I want to know all about you. When you hurt, I hurt. I need to know why you’re hurting, so I can make the hurting stop. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Rabbit nodded obediently, attempting to put on a pleasant smile again. Aaron bent sideways, lifted Rabbit’s chin, and dotted a gentle kiss to his lips. He heard a gasp behind him. He and Rabbit jolted apart. 

“I remember one song that the Baron used to sing when we were on the march during the Border Wars,” Aaron broke off, embarrassed that he had been so openly affectionate to Rabbit in public. A lady walked past them, covering the eyes of her young son. “I shall have to ask him to sing it for you some time. It had to do with a Scotsman who falls asleep under a tree. The rest is a little hazy for me. Come along. We’re causing a scene,” the shire reeve murmured, guiding Rabbit around the next corner.


	22. Rose and the Baby

22 -- Rose and the Baby

 

“Oh, now. Don’t get up,” Aaron protested as he stood near the front door of Karl’s small place in the village. It was a row house like most of the others, one room wide, and three stories tall, with a tiny garret room way at the top. Normally the house was absolutely spotless, but Rose had been ill after a difficult childbirth, and the babe was sick as well more often than not. Karl had far more important things to worry about than whether or not the laundry was folded or the windows were washed. Rose’s sister Prim had been helping her out, and it was likely that Rose would be returning the favor soon enough, because her sister was also expecting. 

“I’d like to make you a cup of tea is all,” Rose protested, running a shy hand over the sleeping cap that covered most of her scarlet-red hair. The two of them had moved their bed down into the lowest living area of the house, because Rose was not yet able to climb stairs. 

“Don’t go to any trouble. You need your rest. We wanted to pop our heads in, and say hello to you, and tell you how glad we are that you’re on the mend,” Aaron smiled. Rabbit hung back shyly by the door frame, hardly putting a toe inside. “Maybe we could get a look at the little one?” he added hopefully. 

As if he had read the shire reeve’s mind, Karl emerged from the tall, narrow stairs, carrying a tiny bundle. He was grinning broadly. Rose protested quietly. 

“Charlie, she was sleeping. Prim said she’d be back in an hour.” 

“I won’t wake her,” Karl replied, grinning. He gingerly put the baby in Aaron’s arm, tucking her against his big chest. The shire reeve was smiling warmly down at the babe. 

“She’s got her mother’s hair,” Aaron said as he observed the abundant red curls which framed the small face. “What a beauty!” 

“That she is,” Karl agreed proudly. Aaron swiveled sideways and aimed the baby at Rabbit, who skittered backwards nervously. 

“She won’t bite you,” the shire reeve promised. Rabbit remained dubious, and drew back further. He was up against the door frame. Aaron put an arm around Rabbit, got behind him, and lowered the baby into the younger man’s arms, helping him hold her against his chest as he peered around Rabbit’s shoulder. He nestled his nose against Rabbit’s cheek at the same time. 

A bitter and sweet sadness pulled through Aaron, not just a longing for what he could have had with Haley, if their son had not been stillborn, if Haley herself were not also dead. There was also a sense of hope for what he might yet have with Rabbit. Was he crazy? Why was he feeling this? Rabbit was timid about touching the child, and yet, the nervousness on Rabbit’s face was fading slowly, and his features were softening with affection for the little child they were holding in both of their arms. 

“I’ll be holding this babe up to the baron in a few weeks,” Aaron said quietly. “It’s one of my duties as shire reeve, to present the infants to the baron for inspection, and to let the court apothecary determine their status and condition. You should have seen me the first time I was up there. I nearly dropped every one of them that night. But over the years, I’ve learned to get a better grip, and not be afraid of a few drops of snot.” 

Karl broke the moment very gingerly. 

“Uh oh. Her eyes are opening. She’s taking a deep breath. Rose? What do I do?” Karl winced. Rosie gave a faint smile as Aaron and Rabbit submitted the baby back to her father. 

“Bring her to me, Charlie,” Rose replied patiently. Karl bustled over to the bed and held the baby out at arms’ length to her mother. As predicted, a cacophonous wailing began to fill the small house. Rose took the baby to her breast and started to feed her. Rabbit looked horrified and amazed at the same time. 

“We’ll pop outside and give you girls some privacy,” Karl said sheepishly. Rabbit was already clear across the street, leaning on his elbows on a low, brick wall which bordered a courtyard. Aaron and Karl crossed the street as well, dodging a band of horses being led by a farmer and his son. 

“Master Ironwood,” Aaron called out, waving. 

“Master Reeve,” the farmer called back, going on about his business. 

“I know what you’re thinking, sir,” Karl said as he and Aaron joined Rabbit. 

“I’m thinking you’re going to be in trouble for waking the baby,” Aaron murmured with a wicked grin.

“She wakes almost every two hours. Prim tells Rose it’s a sure sign the babe’s got the plague. Rosie being a one-hare, she’s got weak antidote in her milk. That’s why the babe is a demanding eater,” Karl replied. “No, I was on about the note that the maid Caroline had in her hand. You’re thinking the killer put it there.” 

“Which killer?” 

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? He or she wants Caroline to be found, and wants her to be traced to her friend Iris. Do you think Iris has a connection to the rabbit running that got John the Nose killed? Or maybe the Lady Florence has a connection?”

“I believe the connection is through her former employer, the Lady Rosalind, and through Miles, who now belongs to the village blacksmith.”

“Is that him over there, the large man talking with your lady friend?” Karl pointed. Aaron gawked through the long, skinny courtyard. Out the other end, he could see the street behind the blacksmith’s shop. Miles and the Lady Prentiss were having a heated discussion. 

“That would be him,” Aaron confirmed. 

“He’s large enough to have done in John the Nose, wouldn’t you say?” Karl suggested. 

“That may be what the Lady Prentiss is trying to determine, whether Miles had a hand in Grosbeak’s death.”

“What’s his connection to John the Nose?” 

“The Lady Rosalind traded Miles for a lesser rabbit, a two-hare, from John the Nose’s private stock. The Lady Rosalind and the rabbit Shannon are now both dead, leaving Caroline unemployed and without prospects. Yesterday morning, Iris says she borrowed money to buy a new dress, telling her friend she had a new job, with a gentleman who needed a maid for his invalid wife. Iris believes instead that Caroline used the money to buy essence of poppy, which she used to lace her malt vinegar which she put on her fish dinner last night. Iris believes that Caroline killed herself in despair, and there never was a gentlemen with a job offer.”

“What do you believe?” Karl asked. 

“I would have liked to have seen the condition of the maid’s body,” Aaron admitted.

“She was a wee thing,” Karl replied. “Not more than fifteen or sixteen herself, like Iris. Close in age. A fair figure. Slovenly of dress though.” 

“How so?” 

“There were spots on her dress, from dinner, I suppose.”

“Did she have any bruises or marks on her neck?” 

“She weren’t hanged if that’s what you’re asking,” Karl answered.

“Could she have been choked?” 

“There were no marks on her neck at all. I was there when Iris and the innkeeper’s wife were cleaning the body.”

“What did you remark about her condition?” 

“She reeked,” Karl frowned. 

“The dead often do. Of what did she reek?” 

“Fish. Vinegar. Ale. Like most of us,” Karl chuckled. “You think everything is all right over there?” he paused nervously a second later. 

Across the courtyard, Miles’s voice was getting louder and louder. Rabbit was ready to hop up over the half wall and sprint across the long, thin space, but Aaron put a hand on his arm. 

“The Lady Prentiss has everything under control,” he promised. 

“Sir, I’m not so sure….what if he…..he’s gonna….sir?” Karl whimpered. 

Miles was looming over the Lady Prentiss, but she stood her ground. A second later, the large man sighed, deflated, and stepped back from her. The Lady Prentiss moved in closer, putting a hand on Miles’s shoulder, and continued her questioning. 

“See?” Aaron smiled. “When she’s done with Miles, ask her to please come to the castle.” 

“I will, sir.” 

“Thank you,” Aaron murmured, taking Rabbit by the arm. “We need to hurry. The Baron is expecting us.”


	23. Anything But Private

23 -- Anything But Private

 

A very young squire and an equally-young page came running down the cobblestones from the castle the very moment that Aaron and Rabbit appeared through the passage way door next to the portcullis. The little boys plowed into the two men as Aaron and Rabbit started their climb from the bottom of the hill. 

“Sir!”

“Sir!”

Aaron patted their heads. These were the two lads from dinner the other night, the ones who had delivered the news that Frogga had come to the castle to visit the shire reeve. Rabbit shied back from their anxious energy.

“The Baron sent us to find you,” the first boy said.

“ ‘Find the shire reeve’, he said,” the second echoed. 

“You’ve found him,” Aaron confirmed.

“Hurry!” the first boy said.

“Hurry faster!” the second added. 

“Lead on then,” Lord Aaron agreed. 

The children clambered over one another to talk to Aaron on the climb up the tower to the baron’s private study. Aaron learned that the two boys were recent additions to the baron’s staff. Both were from the orphanage that the Lady Beatrice ran, the cause to which she had devoted her life, and her energy, and truth be known, nearly all of her personal fortune. 

Aaron listened to their cheerful chatter, but Rabbit was struggling to follow along with their conversation. The shire reeve had a lot of respect for the Lady Beatrice. She was very like the baron in many ways – raised to take care of the people around her in need. They would have made a good couple. She was young for the baron, but not too young. She was of a like temperament, and had a good sense of humor. She loved children though she had had none of her own. She was well-read, and not above setting pen to paper on occasion herself. 

The Baron and the Lady Beatrice had been on good terms since she had taken over the orphanage from her spinster aunts, whom the baron had also quietly funded. The entire court joked that the Lady Beatrice was lucky to have found something suitable to do with her life, as she wasn’t exactly a beauty, and she had few prospects as far as husbands went. At first it had been pity that had urged the baron to pay attention to the Lady Beatrice (he had been married to his third wife the Lady Patricia at the time). But over the years, their friendship had grown. This friendship had of course come under the close scrutiny of the Lady Guinevere. She had campaigned behind the scenes in court against the Lady Beatrice, smearing her name with whispered lies, chipping slowly away at the monies that the Baron had allotted for the orphanage. 

The Lady Beatrice was now at the point where she was openly seeking patronage from other lords and ladies. Anyone who might have time or energy or money to help care for the foundlings had had a visit from the Lady Beatrice. As a last resort, when unable to secure a donation towards the orphanage itself, the Lady Beatrice was finding positions for her charges within the families of those most able to care for them. Aaron would not be surprised if the baron had either taken in more children, or placed them with his own friends. 

The door to the Baron’s private study was open – an unusual event. The room was anything but private at the moment. Voices were carrying into the small foyer and the hallway. Someone was in a frenzy in there, shouting and flouncing about. Shadows moved on the threshold. Courtiers, liaisons, and counselors were lined up in the hallway to each side, some hiding smiles and others hiding expressions of dread and fear. 

“My lady is right. The Baron can’t keep overextending himself and his obligations, or he’s going to fritter away all of his own fortune, looking after those around him who would drain him dry,” the Lady Penelope chattered, looking for confirmation from the other ladies of the court who were present. The Lady Erica nodded quickly, and the Lady Beth did so as well. 

“Yes, those around him like the Lady Guinevere?” an older counselor called from the other side of the hallway.

“Sir, you shall not speak ill of my lady without impunity,” the Lady Penelope bustled in his direction, hands on her hips, tiny feet trotting and stomping. 

“Madam, your mistress is putting the greatest drain on the Baron’s fortunes, demanding more money every day for extravagant luxuries, the keeping of three rabbits, the management of her house in the village, as well as her apartments here at the castle. She has covered herself in clothes, and jewels, and finery, at the expense of bread for starving children,” the older counselor countered. It was Lord Marsh, Baron Rossen’s most highly-respected advisor. 

“A lady must keep herself presentable if she has any hope of finding a good husband,” the Lady Penelope declared indignantly. 

“What man would be so foolish?” a nearby courtier laughed. 

“Bite your tongue, sir,” the Lady Penelope spat. 

“There is no woman in court who can compare to the Lady Guinevere in beauty or in grace, in any fashion whatsoever! She is the very pinnacle of what every woman should ever hope to be.”

“Well said, Lady Erica. Well said,” the Lady Penelope applauded. There were many sets of rolling eyes throughout those assembled. 

Lord Aaron walked through the crowd, and knocked loudly on the open door. 

“GO AWAY!” the Lady Guinevere shouted.

“COME IN!” the Baron Rossen corrected sharply. “AND SHUT THE GODDAMNED DOOR!” 

“Such language,” the Lady Guinevere gasped in shock as Aaron entered. He reached back, pulling on Rabbit’s arm, bringing him through the portal when he tried to linger outside instead. The squire and the page raced inside and ran around the Baron’s desk right before the shire reeve managed to get the door shut. The Lady Penelope wisely drew her foot back, because she would have lost a toe if she had jammed her foot into the closing door as Aaron thought she might be trying to do. 

The Baron’s study was swimming in youngsters. At least fifteen of them were standing around, dressed in new livery outfits designating them to be squires, pages, maids, and couriers in the service of Baron Rossen. The oldest children were in their early teens and would be able to perform most of these functions without any guidance. There were young children too though, who would require help in performing their tasks. The youngest was a girl of five. She was hiding behind Ashleigh’s skirts. 

Aaron nodded hello to Ashleigh. She was beaming with pride for what the baron had done. Ashleigh was not the sort of person who was going to stand quietly by when someone needed help. Being the rabbit of a baron could have afforded her a lavish income and a privileged lifestyle, but she did not favor luxury. She had not grown up in privilege, and she had not acquired the habit of it, which only further endeared her to Aaron. Her youth had been spent in making due with less, and she continued that habit even now. Having all these children around probably reminded her of home – she had come from a very large family, and mostly rabbits too!

“Good, you’re back,” the baron sighed in relief. “I should like for you to have a firm talk with the Lady Guinevere.” 

“WHAT RIGHT DOES THIS MAN HAVE, GIVING ME A FIRM TALK?!” the Lady Guinevere shouted. 

The little girl hiding behind Ashleigh’s skirts started to sob. Ashleigh picked her up and cooed softly to her, walking towards the windows, whispering gentle words. One of the teens walked behind, also patting the youngest child on the hand. 

“This man is responsible for keeping law and order in my lands, and at the moment, you are disturbing both the law and the order,” Baron Rossen explained slowly to the Lady Guinevere. 

“How am I disturbing anyone?” 

“You have diverted royal funds without my permission, leaving the Lady Beatrice utterly destitute. She cannot afford to feed or clothe or house her orphans. How could you do such a thing?”

“The money was needed elsewhere.” 

“The money was used to purchase your new dress, and to refurbish your house in the village,” a nearby counselor countered. 

“What business is it of yours how I spend money, Lord Ivymount?” the Lady Guinevere hissed. 

“As financial advisor to the baron, it is very much my business how the tax money of this realm is spent,” Ivymount retorted. 

“I have chosen not to charge you with thievery, Guinevere, over the protests of my counselors. If you were brought before the court of lords, they might very well misinterpret your actions as outright embezzlement. You are on very thin ice,” the baron warned. 

“You mean to punish me by taking in every ragged brat that bitch Beatrice could send you?” the Lady Guinevere spat back.

“I was not going to leave them hungry. I took these children in because the Lady Beatrice cannot afford to feed them. I have asked Matilda to dip into the castle stores and send provisions over to the orphanage to feed the children remaining there. More than that, I brought these children here because I wanted you to see the faces of those you would ask to go without, so that you might have red silk dresses, and cushioned chaises, and plumed hats.” 

“This is dramatic act of theatre, that’s what it is,” the Lady Guinevere sneered. “I would have expected this of the Lady Patricia, but not from you, Lord Baron.” 

“Mind your tongue, Guinevere,” the baron warned. “Do not speak ill of my dear Patricia, or I will lose my temper with you. Aaron, I beg you, explain to her what she has done,” the baron pleaded with his shire reeve. 

“Lady Guinevere?” Lord Aaron began, clearing his voice and facing the tiny menace. 

“I won’t hear a word from you, sir. You have no authority over me. I don’t care if you are the law and the order. You are one of them. A sniveling, snout-nosed urchin. Your mother was nothing but a whore, and your father, who knows who he even was?”

“Guinevere!” Baron Rossen shouted, rising out of his chair and coming around his desk. The Baron stopped, put a hand on his heart, and took another deep breath. Rabbit pushed gently through the crowd of children, snatched up a bottle from the table of medicines, and hurried to Baron Rossen’s side. He offered the phial up to him with a humble bow. The baron brushed him away impatiently. Rabbit reluctantly retreated. 

“You’re not doing them any favors, coddling them this way. These children should not be brought up expecting the world to provide for their every need. They should learn to fend for themselves, the sooner the better. That’s what life is,” the Lady Guinevere spouted words, flouncing about again as the baron struggled for every breath he dragged in. Rabbit looked helplessly at Aaron. 

“The way you have fended for yourself all these many years?” Aaron barked laughter. The Lady Guinevere paused on one heel and glared daggers at the shire reeve. 

“They need to earn their keep,” the Lady Guinevere sniffed, lifting her tiny nose into the air and looking away from the many disapproving faces. 

“They will be earning their keep,” the baron responded hoarsely, taking another breath and holding onto his chest. “Each and every one of these children will be asked to perform an important function in my service, and for that, they will earn room and board, and the safety of my protection. Do you know what that means, Lady Guinevere?” the baron asked.

“It means you’re being kind to these brats to curry favor with the Lady Beatrice. That’s what it means. Are you planning to make that goose-faced bitch your next wife? Is that your plan, Uncle? I love you too much to let you make a mistake like that. I would see Beatrice dead first.”

“You love his money too much,” Lord Ivymount spoke up. The Lady Guinevere turned at him and glared hatefully. 

“Shire Reeve, would you please explain to my niece what it means when I extend my protection to someone?” Baron Rossen whispered hoarsely. 

“If someone under the baron’s protection comes to harm through the machinations of anyone, commoner or member of the court, then the full extent of the law will fall upon the guilty party,” Aaron answered deeply. 

“In other words, Lady Guinevere, none of these children had better to come harm, nor the Lady Beatrice either,” the baron rasped. Aaron took the phial from Rabbit, and offered it to the baron. Lord David shook his head, and sat down on the edge of his desk. 

“I won’t go anywhere near your precious urchins,” the Lady Guinevere sneered. “It makes my flesh crawl to be in the same room with them. Useless one-hares, cripples, idiots. My ladies and I will adjourn to my home in the village.” 

“No, my dear, you won’t be anywhere near these children,” the baron was quick to assure her. 

Lord David reluctantly accepted the phial from Aaron, took a gulp from the small bottle, stoppered it, and tucked it into his pocket. 

“Lady Guinevere, come closer,” the baron commanded, rising again to his feet. His dark face grew slowly calm. The redness began to dissipate. The Lady Guinevere finally must have sensed that she had crossed a line with the Baron. She stood before the desk and curtseyed to him. 

“Forgive me if I have upset you, Uncle. It was not my intention to do so.” 

“You are forgiven, my dear. I know you come by your temperament honestly. You and the Lady Isabella are like two peas from the same pod,” the baron whispered gently and sadly. 

“I will of course return whatever funds you wish me to return,” the Lady Guinevere offered contritely. “I knew you would have said yes if I asked. You always say yes, don’t you, Uncle? I see now that I should never have assumed so much though. I do understand, Uncle. I will return the funds if you need them.” 

“Yes, my dear, you must return the funds. Not because I need them, but because the funds were not mine for you to take. If this was about my own funds, I would not fuss in the slightest. But the funds you diverted were from the taxes levied in the village. You diverted funds which did not belong to me, and therein lies the problem. If you do not return all the funds, I will have no choice but to charge you with embezzlement. No one is above the law, Guinevere.” 

“I will return the funds at once, with interest, if only you will make these urchins go back to the Lady Beatrice. Please, Uncle. If I give you the money, and you give her the money, she will have enough to feed them herself. You don’t need these little vermin scampering around the castle. You have proven your point. Send them back to her. I beg you.” 

“No, my dear, the children must stay. I have hired them, legally. We have signed our contracts. I have promised them keep, and they shall have keep from me.”

“But, Uncle….” 

“My dear, I hope you won’t be offended when I say this to you, but I realize now that I have been far too lenient with you. I have spoiled you with kindness, and in doing so, I have done you a grave injustice by not letting you face the reality of life, as it is.”

“What can you mean, Uncle?” the Lady Guinevere straightened as though someone had rammed a steel rod down her spine. 

“You said it yourself. Life is about earning your keep.” 

“But I do earn my keep. I work tirelessly around this castle, providing charm and grace to your court, and offering you company and comfort in your old age. I devote nearly three hours of every day to teaching courtly manners to the daughters of the families of your court.”

“It’s high time that we found a better way to occupy your time.” 

“What do you mean? I am very well occupied already,” the Lady Guinevere frowned.

“Lady Guinevere, I am appointing you as my new political liaison to the barony of Shenandoah.”

“What?” she responded with a blank face. 

“Where is my secretary? Bring him quickly. We need to write a decree, Lord Ivymount. The Baron Rossen does on this day appoint his niece by marriage, the Lady Guinevere Jareau, to the position of…”

“You can’t be serious. You’re giving me a job?” the Lady Guinevere was clearly appalled at the very idea. 

Lord Ivymount hunted around the baron’s desk for paper and a quill. The Lady Guinevere yanked the page from his hands, and made a childish attempt to strike him in the face. He ducked her without concern, and took the page away again. 

“Comportment, Lady Guinevere. Contain yourself,” the baron interrupted their exchange. “Yes, I am giving you a job. In the morrow, you will set out for Shenandoah.” 

“You can’t be serious,” the Lady Guinevere gasped, pale and horrified. “You expect me to travel to Shenandoah!? That would be tantamount to homicide!” the Lady Guinevere wailed. “Lord Rothmore himself travels with no less than fifty men when he takes to the road. I will no doubt die trying to reach such a distant, dangerous destination.” 

“I will send you under armed escort. My hope is that you will be able to join with Lord Rothmore’s retinue before too long, and continue under his protection until you reach Shenandoah. You should be installed there by spring.” 

“It’s a bug-infested, backwater province!” she shouted. 

“Where you will come to appreciate more fully the privilege and luxury with which you have been so spoiled here in Quantico,” the baron said. “Bring in my secretary, Lord Ivymount. We will write the decree today, and see the Lady Guinevere off in the morning for her new job. That is all. Good day, young lady. You are dismissed.” 

“You’re dismissing me? You want me to pack my things, and leave in the morning? You’re putting me out?” the Lady Guinevere sniveled. 

“No, my dear. I am protecting you from charges of embezzlement, and potentially from serving time locked in the shire reeve’s keep. I am giving you a highly-coveted job, a paid position in my court, one at which I believe you will excel. Your aunt the Lady Isabella was the most skilled liaison of her day. You will earn a salary equal to what my knights-at-arms make, which is more than enough money to keep you in silk and plumes and cushioned chaises for years to come. You will be in charge of maintaining our important political ties with the Baron Munro, through his shire reeve, Lord William, and his counselor, Lord Rothmore. It is my hope that you shall all become fast friends. You aren’t being put out. You are being set up in a position that will be the envy of many members of the court. I fail to see how this turn of events displeases you.”

“This is preposterous. You can’t do this to me! Not now!” the Lady Guinevere howled. She gulped, reddened, and hurried for the door. She slammed into the portal with both arms, and shoved her way into the lobby area. People scattered in every direction, except her train of ladies, who followed her towards the stairs. Howls and shrieks of horror and misery echoed up and down the stairwell. Lord Marsh entered the private study, leaned against the closed door, and gave Lord David a tentative nod. 

“Well done, my lord baron. That took a lot of courage.” 

“You heard all?” the baron questioned hoarsely. 

“Yes, sir,” the counselor confirmed. 

“I was afraid of that. Aaron?” Lord David frowned. 

“My lord?”

“Send your fastest man. Warn Lord William and Lord Rothmore what I’ve done to them. Express my condolences. Beg their forgiveness,” Lord David whispered, rubbing the center of his chest again. Ashleigh hovered closer to the baron again, offering him a glass of wine from the small side table. 

“At once, sir,” the shire reeve replied.


	24. Blackbirds

24 -- Blackbirds

 

Lord Aaron sat up in the saddle of his horse and exhaled deeply, mentally kicking himself for the hundredth time in the last three days. He knew it had been a mistake to volunteer to escort the Lady Guinevere and her entourage to rendezvous with Lord Rothmore’s retinue on the road to Shenandoah. He should never have done volunteered to go. Never, never, never, never, never. Whatever had possessed him? He had responsibilities to carry out in Quantico and at Rossengild Castle! He didn’t have time for this nonsense!

Perhaps his guilt had driven him to volunteer for the mission. It could also have been a misguided attempt at reconciliation before the Lady Guinevere would be gone from his daily life, to be seen only at holidays and special functions every few months. Perhaps it was devotion to duty and love of his baron, who genuinely did not wish ill on his niece and did not want to see her come to harm. Whatever the reason, Aaron had found himself regretting the decision to go almost from the moment the portcullis had closed behind them. 

The plan had been to join up with Lord Rothmore at Gatestone Pass. Lord Aaron had sent a fleet-footed man on the baron’s fastest horse, with a message entreating Rothmore to wait at Gatestone Pass, and explaining the reasons why. The shire reeve was genuinely worried that Lord Rothmore might be utterly appalled by what the baron was proposing. Fact was, Aaron was afraid Lord Rothmore might receive the message, and decide to increase his speed, thereby giving himself a good excuse to miss the rendezvous at Gatestone Pass. 

What if Baron Munro did not wish to accept the Lady Guinevere as the baron’s liaison? Shenandoah would be perfectly within their rights to refuse her. It might cause a catastrophic breach in relations, but it was their decision in the end. Aaron knew that Lord William would do no such thing though, and Baron Munro trusted Lord William implicitly. Lord William would never be so rude to a lady, and Baron Munro would do whatever Lord William thought was best. Lord William was a kind and gracious man to a fault, and Aaron was worried that the Lady Guinevere was going to eat him alive. 

The worst pain of all was being away from Rabbit. It wasn’t about lacking steady doses of blood antidote – Aaron had found that with a four-hare rabbit, doses were much stronger, and fewer doses were needed. He had had a good long dose before he had departed. But he was missing Rabbit physically, emotionally, and somehow, even spiritually. 

Aaron sighed with longing as his thoughts turned back to the morning three days ago. He had been lying in bed, watching Rabbit getting dressed, and brushing his teeth, and attempting to be quiet in the early morning. There must have been something about the look on Aaron’s face. Rabbit had stopped what he was doing when he noticed Aaron watching him. He had smiled shyly in reply, lingering on the hearth rug. He had slowly undressed down to the skin before climbing into Aaron’s bed with him. They spent more than an hour lying together, merely enjoying being close to each other. Aaron had whispered quiet words, explaining what he would be doing and where he would be going. In between those words came gentle, slow kisses and a few, exploratory touches. The memory of those kisses was like the sweetest elixir to Aaron. 

The actual goodbye had been excruciating. The baron and his court had seen the travelers off at the castle portcullis. The knights who had been appointed to accompany the Lady Guinevere had lined up the carts and carriages, and started moving forward. It was going to be weeks before they would be back home, and none of them were happy about that! 

Aaron had pulled Rabbit up onto his horse for the two minutes it would take to ride down the hill. Rabbit had had his hand clutched into Aaron’s cloak, shifting uncomfortably with each step. The pommel had been poking him most provocatively! Aaron’s eyes had been drawn to the visible mouth marks he had left on Rabbit’s white throat earlier in the morning. It turned him on to think of how Rabbit had squirmed with excitement, fingers curling through Aaron’s hair. Although they hadn’t done anything more than kiss and touch, that had been more than enough to buoy Aaron’s hopes for what might transpire when he returned, if absence did indeed make the heart grow fonder. 

‘I want you to behave while I am gone,’ Aaron had whispered in Rabbit’s ear. He replayed the words in his mind now. ‘Do whatever the Baron asks you to do. Stay inside the castle. Do not go into the village.’

Rabbit had nodded to each command, dropping his eyes shyly but lifting them again after every pause, long lashes fluttering. How had he managed to look so innocent and so mischievous at the same time? Aaron had hugged him sideways, pulling him close against his chest. The shire reeve had been tempted, so tempted, to plant a kiss on Rabbit’s lips, bend him backwards to the point of upending him, and give him a memory to linger over during this brief separation. He would have, but for the fact many of his knights-in-arms had turned around in the saddle to gawp curiously at the pair. Instead, Aaron rolled Rabbit over to help him slip safely to the ground, giving him one last swat on the backside for good measure. 

Rabbit had landed on his feet, and climbed the half wall beside the portcullis. As Aaron had ridden under the raised portcullis, Rabbit had lifted one hand slightly, and wiggled his fingers as a goodbye, all the while blushing like a new bride. The shy, sweet gesture had warmed Aaron’s heart for days to follow. Even now when he remembered it, he could feel a glow in his chest. 

“Master Reeve, I would like to know more about Lord William personally. You seem to know him better than most,” the Lady Penelope began, breaking Aaron out of his private thoughts. Lord Aaron studied her with a cool gaze. She was attempting this interrogation for her mistress’s sake. Aaron had spent the trip being peppered with questions, until he had actively avoided the Lady Guinevere by being anywhere but near her carriage. 

The Lady Guinevere was very curious to know more about the man to whom she would be trusting her future. Although Aaron understood her curiosity, he hadn’t liked her line of questioning, which had centered entirely on whether or not Lord William was married, if he was rich, what sort of family he had, his lineage, and his friends. Oh, he had a mother. Was she old? Would she die soon? How was her health? 

Aaron stretched in his saddle, and delayed his response to the Lady Penelope by glaring hatefully at the small tent which had been erected off the side of the path between two large trees. Every time one of the members of the Lady Guinevere’s entourage needed a comfort break, the train of wagons and horses and carts and carriages would have to come to a halt on the side of the forest path. A retinue of servants would bring forth several poles, construct the small tent, and one by one, each of the ladies and lords in the Lady Guinevere’s company would take turns going in and out of the small tent. Aaron could not understand how it took so much pomp and circumstance and time for fifteen people to relieve themselves! 

The shire reeve was at the end of his tether, and struggling not to foam at the mouth like a rapid dog. They were three days into their journey, and it was nearing sundown. They were deep in the middle of the primordial forest, and this was the fifth comfort break of the day. Aaron struggled not to lose his patience, but at this rate, they were going to need two weeks alone to get to Gatestone Pass. They had wasted more than three hours of travel time on comfort breaks. 

The shire reeve was smart enough to know this wasn’t about the comfort breaks though. The Lady Guinevere was hoping that if she dragged her heels long enough, the baron would reconsider the folly of sending her away. The baron would retract this assignment, call her back, and she would not be exiled after all. The Lady Guinevere had been moaning and sniveling to the Lady Penelope and the Lady Erica and the Lady Beth from the moment the castle portcullis dropped behind them. The baron was going to change his mind, she just knew it, and she didn’t want to be too far away when he did call her back. 

“Madam, you and your mistress will have plenty of time to become acquainted with Lord William once we have reached Shenandoah. You may inform everyone that this will be the last comfort break for the day. We need to reach Piney Woods this evening before we rest again,” Aaron grumbled in response to Lady Penelope’s question. 

“Piney Woods is another three hours down this path!” the Lady Penelope exclaimed, horrified. 

“Yes, it is,” Aaron confirmed. 

“It will be pitch dark in the forest by then!”

“It may very well be,” Aaron agreed. 

“We should stop here for the night. The horses could stumble in the dark.” 

“These mares were born in Shenandoah. They know every step along the path between our door and home, day or night. They will not stumble.”

“It’s very tiring, travelling this way.” 

“Yes. It is. Tiring,” Aaron agreed. ‘You have no idea,’ he thought grimly.

“You are driving us too fast,” the Lady Penelope whined. “We have had to eat cold food, in transit. The only warm meals have been breakfast porridge, and that horrible venison stew the cook keeps making. It’s inhuman, the way you’re treating us. We are not cattle to be driven with the crack of a whip.” 

“Madam, if you shout any louder, you’re going to attract the attention of the highwaymen, or green men, or pirates who run afoot in this forest at night. Is that how you want to end your days? Chained to the mast of a ship? Scrubbing the deck with blocks of sandstone until your nails fall off and your fingers bleed? Or perhaps serving as a trysting wench for a hoard of savage highwaymen?” 

The Lady Penelope shut up right away. She opened and closed her mouth like a landed fish. 

“HURRY UP IN THERE! Get yourselves back into the carriages! We depart in three minutes!” Aaron howled angrily. 

One of the Lady Guinevere’s rabbits popped out of the small tent, adjusted her dress, and scampered back along the train. Another rabbit popped out right behind her. Aaron sighed his impatience as yet a third rabbit came out of the tent and raced to catch up to each other along the side of the path. 

The shire reeve moved his horse up the path to the head of the train. A faint smile slowly bloomed when he saw that another courier pigeon had arrived with a note from Baron Rossen. It was a welcome distraction from the tiresome, spoiled retinue. He could not wait to be rid of the lot of them! Aaron hurried up to where one of the baron’s knights held the bird unsurely on his upraised arm. 

“Pigeon post, sir,” he proclaimed. Aaron made a soft, cooing noise, and the pigeon lifted off of the knight and lighted over. He carefully undid the bond holding the tiny scroll, and allowed the bird to sit on his shoulder while he unfurled the message. 

“What news, my lord?” another of the knights asked. Aaron was sure this one was a son or a nephew to Lord Dunbridge, one of Baron Rossen’s most faithful lords at court. 

“The Baron sends his regards,” Aaron replied simply. The actual message was a bit longer, and in very miniscule print:

 

_My dear boy-_  
 _Are you really not even as far as Piney Woods? It’s been three days! All is well here. I am busying myself with preparations for the presentation ceremony, and I expect you back here for it. Rabbit divides his time between Master Bottler’s workshop and the Lady Eleanor’s Green. We have had our first meeting with the Lady Julia. Do not worry – I chaperoned them the entire time. Her proposal was a curious one. We eagerly await your return before advancing. In the meantime, I have proposed that we see a few performances at the Wooden Planks, and share a few books together. Would you believe that the Lady Eleanor lies asleep yet in her green? It’s been more than a week! Each day, I send a page to peer in on her, to confirm that she is sleeping and has not died. Each morning, he returns with the news that she is snoring loudly, and will not wake. Do be careful out there in the forests. Hurry home. My love to Guinevere. My profuse apologies to Lord William. –Lord David_

 

Aaron smiled to himself, rolled the tiny scroll up, and put it in his breast pocket. He tried to imagine the baron putting himself between Rabbit and the Lady Julia for an entire evening. Granted, it would have been easier to picture if he knew something about the woman. He didn’t understand why Rabbit had selected her letter out of everyone else who had been soliciting the baron on Rabbit’s behalf. Odd. Very odd. Had Rabbit been genuinely interested, or had he simply wanted to bring an end to the public audience in the fastest manner possible, in order to be allowed to go to the castle library? 

Aaron had, admittedly, totally and completely forgotten about Frogga Ironeye sleeping in the hidden garden. How long did she mean to sleep there? She had said one night, one night only, and yet there she remained, a week later? Perhaps time moved more slowly for those in tune with nature and magic. 

Aaron also wondered what Rabbit was doing while he was in the court apothecary’s workshop. What was he doing in the Lady Eleanor’s Green, while Frogga was asleep there? Was Rabbit watching over Frogga while she was in an unguarded, vulnerable state? That was rather a nice thought to settle on – that Rabbit might care enough for the swamp witch that he would guard her while she slept. 

“It’s time to move on,” the shire reeve commanded, giving his horse a gentle nudge. The courier pigeon took off another into the air, hiding in the trees. 

“Sir, what about their comfort break?” one of his knights hesitated. 

“The comfort break is over. Get them dressed, and stuff them into their carriages. We need to make Piney Woods tonight.” 

Aaron trotted on ahead, ducking under a low branch covered with ivy vines. One of the thick ropes of vine lowered slightly as he was going under the big branch. Aaron’s senses tingled in anticipation of danger. It was either a snake or a noose. He reached up with one hand to grasp the lowest vine rope, and used his other hand to pull his dagger free from its sheath.

There rose behind him an inharmonious wailing and screaming. He knew instantly that this was a noose and a trap, but he could not turn around right at the moment. As he rode under the branch, he grasped the vine and gave it a hard pull. He unseated a thin shadow in the tree above him, and yanked a small figure downward at an awkward angle. Bloody pandemonium had erupted behind him. But his hands were full at the moment, literally. 

A young lad with dark hair and blue eyes, dressed in forest greens, dropped out of the tree when Aaron yanked on the vine rope. No more than ten or twelve, he was a green man – what the commoners called highwaymen of the forest. The boy was sprawled at an angle over the neck of Aaron’s horse. He gaped at the shire reeve in horror and shock. The shire reeve gaped back. The vine rope with which the skinny lad had hoped to unseat the shire reeve dangled between them. This was not how the boy had pictured this would end. 

If a grown man had fallen across his horse, there would have been no hesitation on the shire reeve’s part. Aaron would have stabbed his raised dagger straight through his attacker’s chest and dropped him to the ground without a second thought. But because it was but a lad, not more than a child, Aaron stayed his hand. The dark-haired lad screamed out in horror, and tried to bolt. Aaron held fast to him out of instinct, knowing the lad would not have been chosen for such an important task without reason or purpose. Someone had given the boy this task, and that someone was likely among the crowd behind him. Aaron whirled around in time to dodge an arrow from his left. He held tight to the dark-haired lad, galloped majestically under the low branch, and back into the fray that had unleashed itself around him. 

“STAND AND DELIVER!!” came the howls as bandits in green outfits the colors of the trees and leaves dropped down onto the poorly-lit path. Aaron gave the lad in his arms a dreadful shake, holding him up by the throat so that his legs dangled over the ground. 

“STAND DOWN, YOU BASTARDS!” Aaron commanded loudly. 

Green men chased ladies, and knights chased green men, and arrows went zipping past. Swords clashed, and there was a good deal of unnecessary caterwauling on both sides. The very air around them was choked with mayhem and chaos. 

“STAND DOWN, OR HE DIES!” Aaron bellowed, putting his dagger to the lad’s throat. 

The second shout had succeeded in making the green men stop in their tracks. The shire reeve was bluffing, of course. Aaron of Hotchner was not the sort of man who would kill a child, no matter how annoying the squirming, yelling boy was. He had to admit, it was the lad’s own resemblance to himself at the age which had also given Aaron pause. 

“MUUUUUUUUUUM!!!!” the dark-haired lad screamed out, clawing at Aaron’s powerful hand as his skinny legs kicked round and round. The bandits dropped their swords, and stopped chasing the frayed members of the court. Every last green man turned their glance towards a central figure on the path. The members of the court did not stop running though. They rushed en masse towards Aaron and his horse, and the lad who was being held at blade point. 

“I suggest you stop moving, unless you want this blade to slip,” Aaron warned as the boy kicked and fussed. One highwayman was hurrying forward down the path. A blade was tossed onto the trodden-down dirt and pine needles. The bandit pulled off the greenish mesh which was masking her face. A long black braid fell down. The highwayman tucked the mask into the wide belt at her waist, and stopped a foot in front of Aaron’s horse. She was holding both hands in the air as a gesture to stay Aaron’s intent.

“Please, sir, release him. I beg you.” 

“Give me one good reason why I should let this mongrel live.” 

“Have pity, sir. Are you not a father? Have you no son? Kill me instead.” 

Aaron studied her with a critical eye. She was not more than twenty-five. She and the boy shared the same dark hair and blue eyes, and round, pleasant faces both streaked artfully with dirt and grime. They were gangly of limb, and thin of frame. It was easy to see the resemblance between them, and Aaron could see and feel echoes of his own mother the Lady AlyceAnn in the features and the voice and the accent of the highwayman before him. Aaron lowered his knife and put it away.

“A mother’s love is the strongest force in the universe. As everlasting as the stars themselves,” Aaron growled at the youngster before letting him plummet from a goodly height. The lad scampered away, dusting himself off. He raced behind the green man, and clung to her. 

“Do with us as you wish, my lord,” the bandit mother murmured, bowing her head in shame. Aaron shifted in his saddle and crossed his reins over the pommel. He studied her shrewdly for several seconds. 

“I bet you know these woods like the back of your hand,” the shire reeve ventured carefully.

“Aye, my lord. Born and bred here,” the highwayman replied. 

“If you aren’t careful, you’re going to die here too,” he warned her. 

“That would be agreeable to me, to die here as I have lived here, free and easy. No man owns me, nor will he ever. No man owns any of us.”

“So you know these woods well?” 

“I know each of these trees by name,” she replied. 

“Can you see us through to Piney Woods tonight?” Aaron asked impatiently. The highwayman’s blue eyes filled with disbelief and mistrust. 

“I don’t understand,” she muttered. 

“We were trying to make Gatestone Pass,” Aaron sighed. 

“Tonight?” the green man laughed, her blue eyes twinkling.

“Not tonight. By the end of the week. Can you see us as far as Piney Woods? I’d be grateful.”

“Your gratitude won’t feed my band.” 

“We’ll share our provisions with you and your men. There will be gold in it too, if you see us there safely. Further, each member of the court will surrender one suit of clothes as payment for safe passage, protection from molestation, as it were. All would be yours, fairly earned, if you can see us to Piney Woods tonight. Gold, and silk, and good food.” 

“Real silk?” the bandit inquired, her eyes like fire. 

“Fresh from the worm,” Aaron promised. 

The bandit whistled loudly through her fingers. Three men hurried over to her, her lieutenants, Aaron surmised, two much older, and one close to her own age. They whispered heatedly among themselves for a few seconds, giving Aaron dubious glances. Finally, the highwaymen all four turned to face the shire reeve. They were grinning. The bandit leader bowed to him, her braid flopping over her shoulder and back again. 

“We are at your service, my lord,” she replied, standing straight and pushing a hand against her belt buckle. One of her lieutenants retrieved her blade for her. She thanked him and sheathed the weapon. 

“What do you call yourselves?” Aaron asked. 

“My lord?” 

“Where I’m from, highwaymen who frequent the forests name their bands, give them monikers meant to drive fear into the hearts of any traveler who might dare to trespass in their woods. What do you call yourselves?” 

“We are the Blackbirds,” the bandit smiled, bowing to him again, showing him her long braid of hair, the end of which held three raven’s feathers. It didn’t take long for Aaron to notice that as the other green men around her removed their masks, there was an abundance of black hair and blue eyes among them, and the physical resemblances were strong as well. There were also a few members of the bandits with dark brown eyes like his own. So it was a group related by blood and marriage, and hardship too no doubt. Each and every one of them had a raven feather on their person which they flashed at him. 

“What’s your name?” Aaron asked the bandit leader. 

“This lot calls me ‘Mother’, but I was named for my mum Flora, gods rest her soul. Who are you then?” 

“I am Lord Aaron of Hotchner. Shire Reeve to Baron Rossen of Quantico.” 

“You’re from Hotchner?” she exclaimed. A few of the green men crowded closer in order to gape openly at the shire reeve, venturing past Aaron’s knights and their drawn swords. “Isn’t it a small world?” Flora wondered, shaking her head. 

“Baron Hotchner has been dead more than thirty years. His castle was razed and he was dead before you were born, I’d wager. How could you possibly have heard of a place that hasn’t existed for more than three decades?” Aaron asked skeptically. 

The highwayman bowed to him again, as word was spreading fast through the rest of her green-clad men. More and more appeared, gaping at the shire reeve. 

“We would be honored to see you to Piney Woods, and to Gatestone Pass as well, cousin,” the bandit leader said. 

“Thank you, Flora.”

“At your service, Master Reeve. It’s the least we can do for kin.” 

“Kin?” Aaron blanched. The bandit patted her son on the shoulder, and pointed to the shire reeve.

“Look there! You almost throttled your own cousin today, Mace. You ought to be ashamed!”

Flora swatted the boy on the backside, and sent him off among the troops, many of whom patted him on the head or swatted his backside too. He appeared to be a mascot of sorts, a highwayman-in-training, as it were. One of the older lieutenants leaned into Flora, and spoke loudly enough for Aaron to hear. 

“He’s got Old Bart’s square jaw, don’t he though?”

“I was thinking the self same thing!” Flora exclaimed.

“Old Bart, my ass. Look at his eyes! He’s one of Black Teach’s brood, I’d reckon,” the other lieutenant spoke up before giving Aaron a nervous grin. 

“You think so?” Flora asked. “I don’t see it. Though I only met Black Teach once. He busted my ass good and proper for waking him in the morn after a night of drink. My butt was red for a week!” 

“If he has a short temper and a weakness for the drink, it’s a sure thing,” came the reply. 

“Maybe he belongs to both of ‘em, eh?” another man suggested. “Old Bart and Black Teach was cousins, weren’t they?” 

“Brothers, I always thought.” 

“Half brothers, cousins, near as much the same, ain’t it? We’re all related.” 

“Who do you think he favors more?” Flora asked another man. This one took a long clay pipe from his lips and smiled a crooked leer. 

“Curse my eyes, but that there is one of Dirty Jack’s boys. No doubt about it.”

“There’s no way!” the others argued back. 

“Ask him if he’s a rabbit, or if his mum was one,” the smoker muttered. 

“Not a rabbit, are you, sir?” Flora demanded. Aaron narrowed his eyes at her skeptically. She was very keen to know, wasn’t she?

“No, Mother Flora, I am not a rabbit. I hate to rush you, but we must make good time. The lead is yours,” Aaron interrupted their uncomfortable discussions about his parentage, motioning to the forest path.

“Right, sir. Carry on then,” Flora laughed to her lieutenants, and they dissipated in order to gather up the rest of the men and give them instructions. 

“You can’t be serious,” the Lady Guinevere intervened, coming out from behind her ladies and her courtiers and pages and rabbits. “You’re going to trust our safety to the people who tried to kill us all?!”

“We weren’t gonna kill you,” one of the departing men laughed loudly. 

“That’s a lovely dress,” Flora smiled, sauntering past the indignant small fury, and admiring her lace collar. Aaron dropped down out of the saddle long enough to talk to the Lady Guinevere.

“We have struck a rightful bargain, and in good faith we will trust them. They know these paths better than we do. Hopefully we can make up for lost time.”

“I’m not following these ruffians anywhere!” the Lady Guinevere screamed. 

“Then you and yours are free to stay here, in the forest, at night, alone, and wait for the next band of ruffians who wanders by. See how well you bargain with them for your safety and your security. How does that grab you, my lady?” Aaron growled angrily. “Do you need time to think on it, or can we go?” 

“This is madness!” the Lady Guinevere shouted, raising both arms in the air in exasperation. 

“They are going to take us into the forest, and kill us all, and no one will ever find our bodies!” the Lady Penelope howled in tears.

“Nah,” one of the green men answered. “The stench would give you away sooner or later. So would the vultures,” he added, pointing upwards.

Aaron fought with a smile as he dug around in his saddle bags, and withdrew a leather pouch. He handed it carefully to Flora, and her hand trembled with the weight of it. Her eyes fairly bulged with surprise. 

“Here’s the coinage up front, so you know I’m a man of my word. You can choose your dresses when we get to Piney Woods, Miss Flora,” Aaron said. 

“Aye, sir,” Flora said, tossing the bag of gold coins to the man who stood closest to her right, the lieutenant close to her own age. “Here, Kevin. You’re the tally-man. Divvy it fairly. Keep the usual ten-percent for Old Bart.” 

“Yes, Mother,” Kevin replied. He paused, tucked the bag in his cloak, and gave the Lady Penelope a small smile as he bowed to her. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but you’d fare better in the forest if you had a protector by your side. I’d be happy to offer my services in that regard.” 

“Keep your distance, foul creature,” she warned him haughtily. 

“You’d fare better still in more sensible footwear,” he grinned. 

“That’s enough, Kevin,” Flora warned. “Save pitching woo with the ladies until we get to Piney Woods. You’ll have all night.”

“Yes, Mother,” Kevin bowed, disappearing into the trees once more.


	25. The Hornet's Nest

25 -- The Hornet's Nest

 

Dear Baron –  
At long last, we have reached Piney Woods! We hope to make Gatestone Pass in a day or two. Such tales I want to tell you! My love to all – Aaron

 

_Dearest Boy—_  
_Not much news on this end. Master Bottler has tossed Rabbit out of the workshop, though he will not explain why. He muttered about witchery and blasphemy, but could give me no specifics. I have set your bunny up his own workshop in one of the small rooms off the Lady Eleanor’s Green. The chaperoned daily meetings between your bunny and the Lady Julia continue. The Lady Eleanor has yet to awaken. We check on her daily, but there is no change. She snores and snores and rolls over to snore again. All is quiet here in Quantico. The Lady Prentiss continues to search for leads in John the Nose’s murder (that of the maid Caroline too). As she has made little progress, I suspect Lord Strauss will call her back soon to the Occoquan. Master Bottler confirmed that the essence of poppy was present in both their deaths, though he will not commit to calling the maid Caroline’s demise murder. Important people are killed. The rest of us merely expire, I’m afraid. More later—Lord David_

 

Dear Baron—  
We have reached Gatestone Pass, only one day behind schedule. At the advice of our forest guides and Lord Rothmore, we have decided to rethink our plans. We have convinced the Lady Guinevere that changes will be made in both her entourage and her accoutrements. She was not happy, as you might imagine. Did you harken to that loud noise coming from the west last night? I am sending back her carriages, and we will continue on with the carts and horses. –Aaron 

 

_Dearest Boy—_  
_The carriages have arrived, safe and sound. What charming companions you have acquired for your journey! I paid them double what you promised, and they were all too pleased. Every tavern in the village was alight with dance and drink and revelry last night. Come morning though, there was nary a sign of your friends. They had all vanished again._

_In all seriousness, I must divulge to you the contents of a secret, emergency missive from Baron Munro. His scouts have observed small bands of raiders crossing the western border. These raiders are different from the others we are accustomed to seeing. They are dressed in blue, not gray. They do not attack wantonly, but have attempted to blend in with the regular population. They are on the hunt, he has no doubt, but for what or whom, he does not know. They are hunting peacefully, but they are no doubt hunting._

_Lord William has made it as far as Culpepper. Baron Munro instructed him to turn around and come back to meet you halfway. He proposes Applewood Farm. From there, Lord William will escort the Lady Guinevere to Shenandoah, and you must return home on your fastest horse. I need you here as soon as you can be. There is more to tell you. We must make necessary preparations. I will keep you informed. –Lord David_

_Post Script- Added note enclosed!_

 

Aaron – You home soon? Too much quiet. Need your words. Kisses –Reid 

 

Lord Aaron was smiling to himself as he read the last note, shaking his head. 

“He misspelled his own name,” the shire reeve laughed softly, tucking the small scrolls into his pocket. The latest courier pigeon took flight to return home before Aaron could attach a reply message. Flora was riding on the horse next to Aaron’s. She turned to face him for a moment. 

“Who, sir?” 

“My bunny.” 

“You have a rabbit? You carry the plague, sir? I would have never guessed! We’ve been out two weeks, and you’ve had nary a sign of the creeping need.”

“The creeping what?” Aaron frowned. 

“When you go too long without antidote. You haven’t hired a rabbit while we’ve been travelling. We’ve many a rabbit to choose from.”

“I haven’t felt the need,” Aaron replied. More than two-thirds of the people in Mother Flora’s company were rabbits, a fact that had astonished the shire reeve. They were one-hares and two-hares, with the exception of her own Mace. He was a three-hare, and that was the most closely-guarded secret among the clan. 

“Whew,” Flora whistled softly. “That is some rabbit you have, to be able to go this long without antidote?”

“I have gone as long as week before, but truth be told, I can’t wait to be home,” Aaron confessed quietly. “I do need him. I need him very much.” 

“Amazing how fast a man can travel when he’s not escorting the likes of them that you left at Applewood Farm, isn’t it?” Flora clucked disapprovingly. 

“I am enjoying the speedy pace, as well as the peace and quiet,” Aaron confided.

“I’m surprised you left every one of your knights-a-foot with Lady Jenny.”

“I wanted her to feel safe.” 

“Why should you care how that one feels?” 

“She is kin to my baron, and I care how my baron feels.” 

“The Lady Jenny doesn’t like you, not one tiny bit.” 

Aaron smiled and nodded in reply. “I feel guilty for her plight, though she brought it on herself.” 

“You have nothing to feel guilty for. You’re fairly shot of her. Now that was a true gentleman you left her with though, wasn’t it? Kind voice, courtly manners, always ready to help her. Lending her his cloak in the rain. Holding her gloves for her. Making sure she had extra food. Picking flowers for her too. That was nice,” Flora observed with a faint sigh. 

“Lord William is a good man.” 

“Aye, he is. Has he a wife? Has he any unwed kin?” 

“He has no kin left but his mother, and no, he’s not married.” 

“How could you be so cruel to him, gifting him with that wee shrew?” Flora laughed. “She was right nasty to him. Talking down to him. Practically beating him to death with that broken shoe of hers. I ask you, what reasonable woman wears heels in the forest in a spring downpour?” 

“Don’t worry. The Lady Guinevere will warm up to Lord William, by and by, if she knows what’s good for her,” Aaron muttered. 

“I pray for his sake that she does. No man can take being beaten down every day of his life,” Flora murmured. “Looks like we’re coming up to a parting of the ways, Lord Aaron. I’ll be sad to see you go.”

“What’s that?” the shire reeve murmured, putting his gaze ahead again. 

“The mile marker, don’t you see? This is the point where you continue on alone, and I get back to my men. I’m a wanted woman outside this forest. It is my kingdom and my prison as well. You’re an hour out from the borders of Lord Rossen’s barony, six hours out from the village of Quantico itself, near as I can tell. You’ll make home by sundown if you hurry. Before you’re off though, I have a parting gift,” the highwayman rambled. She tugged on the end of her braid and drew out a raven feather to give to Aaron. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, holding it awkwardly. 

“That’s for protection. He will smile down on you if He sees that.”

“Who will?” 

“We do not speak His name, the god of the blackbirds. When you come into my woods again, you wear that pinned on you, and you will come to no harm. If you ever have need of my company or counsel, cousin, we will always welcome you.”

“Thank you, Miss Flora. You take care of yourselves. Be cautious whom you choose to pluck.”

“I will, sir. Fare you well, cousin.” 

“Fare you well, Miss Flora, cousin or not.” 

“Don’t take it personally, the way Old Bart reacted to you.”

Aaron snorted the pain away, blinking and laughing. “He has a good left hook for an old man with one arm.” 

“It’s only that you do look like the cousin who betrayed him to the law and would have left him to dangle, if not for the double-crossing ways of Black Teach.”

“Do you really believe I’m one of Dirty Jack’s relation?” Aaron smiled. 

“Old Bart thinks it, so it must be true. They were raised together, they were, so he ought to know, hadn’t he?”

“Whatever happened to Dirty Jack? Did he die at the siege of Castle Hotchner?” 

“Oh no. Dirty Jack dangled from a noose off Gallows Road a decade before Baron Hotchner lost his all, as it were.” 

“I’m coming back to your forest, Miss Flora, if only to hear more of your colorful tales,” Aaron promised. 

The highwayman grinned in reply, pulling her horse to a stop right beside the mile marker with three long stripes on it. As Aaron trotted onward, he glanced back into the woods now and then. Flora did not move a muscle for the longest time, and then suddenly, she was gone, a slender shadow that blended back in with the wild woods from which she had sprung. 

 

* * *

 

By sundown, Aaron was galloping up the hill which led to the portcullis of Castle Rossengild, happy once again to gaze at the stark gray façade of home. But wait. Was it his imagination, or had two weeks of warmer spring weather brought a bit of greenish tinge to the ivy that climbed the castle walls? The fields that led to the castle had been tilled, and seeds had been planted. Farmer Ironwood was busy turning his plow horses towards home. He waved as Aaron trotted past. Aaron waved back, his horse’s hooves clopping along the path towards home. 

The forests were looking brighter and greener too, Aaron thought as he waved a gauntleted hand to the guards at the front guard towers. The guards waved back, and at a distance, he heard the thump and bump of the portcullis being unlocked, the bolts being slid back, and the clogs being engaged. Slowly, foot by foot, the heavy, iron gate was being raised for him. Eager to be inside, Aaron dismounted from his horse and walked under even as the portcullis was going skyward. 

A stable boy was waiting. He took the reins of Aaron’s horse, and in the nick of time too. The shire reeve heard the sound of boots striking the cobblestones in a fast rhythm. A hearty warning was shouted from the front entrance. Aaron glanced up to wave back at Baron Rossen, and that’s when the form in motion collided with him, a thin blur which wrapped itself tight around him. 

Aaron recognized Rabbit by his scent as much as the feel of his lithe body. The young man nestled under Aaron’s dirty cloak, and buried his face in the shire reeve’s neck. This was all Aaron had dreamed about for his entire absence, and he was loathe to let him go ever. But even as the joy soared through them both, Aaron could sense the fear and relief in Rabbit as well. Something was wrong. He could sense it in the way Rabbit was trembling and clutching at him. It wasn’t all about sexual tension, although those thoughts and feelings were the ones which rode the surface of the waves. 

Under the protection of his cloak, Aaron slid both hands down Rabbit’s waist, and lower still, grasping his behind firmly. They were against the door of the pass-thru of the guard tower. Aaron fought with the knob to get inside, and without ceremony, he pushed Rabbit hard against the wall. He alternated arduous kisses with rough bites along that beautiful, high throat, grunting and growling angrily as he fed from Rabbit’s neck.

The guards inside the pass-thru stared at the two men, stared at each other, and ducked out opposite two doors, closing them with a bang. Aaron was groping Rabbit openly now. He tugged apart Rabbit’s shirt ties in order to lick and nuzzle the top of his chest. He wanted to pull down the young man’s trousers and suck his ready cock right here, but even in this hazy fog of desperation, Aaron knew better than to go quite that far. He lifted Rabbit’s legs, and bucked against him a time or two in imitation of the sexual conduct he was craving with all his being, all the while drinking precious antidote from his kisses and from his bared neck. Aaron was ravenous, rough, and more than welcome to help himself, if Rabbit’s positive responses were any indication. Rabbit’s hardness was gouging Aaron in the abdomen as firmly as Aaron’s own cock was gouging him back. 

Someone cleared his throat behind them, and Aaron stopped mid-suck, his mouth filled with the delicious taste of the one he loved. He opened his eyes and stole a quick glance of Rabbit’s blissful face, eyes clenched tight, his hair splayed back against the dirty bricks. 

“Everyone all right in here?” the baron chuckled. 

Lord David had been obliged to come down the hill to welcome his shire reeve home again. His master was carrying two goblets in hand, one of which he was sipping from casually. Aaron gave Baron Rossen a bashful chuckle while stroking Rabbit’s long, loose hair. He let Rabbit down from the wall, unconscious of the hand which stroked the young man from his locks to his hip, cupping under his backside again. Rabbit tucked his cloak tight around himself and shooed Aaron’s grasping hand aside. He was panting, and his hair was a halo of tangled curls. 

“Yes, sir,” Aaron replied, clearing his throat and composing himself. 

“You are late for dinner, but no harm in it. We have saved you a place at the table. You may share a chair if you must,” he added, dark eyes twinkling. 

“I’m filthy. I’m not fit to dine with polite company,” Aaron protested as they exited the pass-thru. Rabbit walked in front of Aaron as the baron led them back up the hill to the front entrance. The shire reeve could stare at nothing except Rabbit’s cute behind. 

“You smell of horse and muck and dirt, but who among us does not?” 

“Sorry about…. You know?” the shire reeve offered, tearing his eyes off Rabbit’s tempting ass long enough to notice the tiny rivulets of blood dripping down Rabbit’s throat. He retrieved his handkerchief and dabbed at the bruises and bites. 

“What? Your private feeding frenzy? No need to apologize. You’ve been on the road for two weeks. That’s a long time to go without,” the baron grinned. 

“Have you received any more emergency missives from Baron Munro, or from the northern barons?” Aaron worried, giving Rabbit the handkerchief so he could dab his own neck. 

“None. I take that no news means good news. If anything occurs in the west that merits our attention, Baron Munro has promised to send word. As has Lord Strauss, north of us. As I said in my messages, we’ve doubled the watch, and opened the sentinel nests. There is more to tell you that I could not express in the messages though,” the baron replied. 

Rabbit would not let go of Aaron’s arm. When the shire reeve paused at the entrance to allow two men-at-arms to help remove his breast plate and gauntlets, Rabbit held loosely to Aaron’s cloak. When Aaron pulled off the cloak and carried it over one arm, he wrapped a limb around Rabbit’s arm, and they walked together behind the baron. Lord David kept glancing back at them, smiling, drinking from his goblet. 

“He is very happy to see you,” the baron remarked. Aaron smiled at Rabbit, who blushed brightly in reply, nodding. Aaron finished his goblet, and carried it absently in the hand of the arm that held his travel-grimy cloak. He kept the cloak in front of himself and walked a bit stiffly. 

“Any news from the Lady Prentiss?” Aaron wondered. He needed a distraction, or he was going to push Rabbit up against another wall and finish what he started in the guard tower pass-thru. 

“As I predicted, Lord Strauss has ordered her back to the Occoquan until further notice.”

“What of the investigation into John the Nose’s death?” 

“It has stalled for the moment. We have more important matters to be concerned with, as you will soon see. Before we head to the banquet hall, there is something I need to show you. Follow me,” the baron requested, heading up the tower which housed Aaron’s apartments. 

Lord Marsh waited on the threshold of the apartments with the door wide open. Clearly Aaron had been spotted from this very tower. Had Rabbit run all the way down the steps, through the castle, and down the hill when he had first seen Aaron in the distance? Suddenly the shire reeve’s heart felt so warm and light. Again he was consumed with his plans to bed Rabbit, tonight if possible. Two beds to choose from! The desk, the floor, the bathtub? The tower? Mmm… oh, yes. That would be delicious. Head up the tower, lay Rabbit naked on the stones, starlight shining above. Where did Aaron want to take Rabbit for the first time? It was going to be hard to decide. He might have to fuck him several times before he would be satisfied. His eyes lighted on the hearth rug, and he imagined Rabbit on all fours there, firelight glowing on his naked skin as Aaron gave him a good, hard pounding. 

“Master Reeve, so good to see you,” Lord Marsh greeted Aaron while taking the Baron’s arm to support him. “My lord baron, you should not tire yourself out so, sir. Sit here, and finish your drink. I will show the shire reeve all he needs to see.”

“I do not feel at all tired, Lord Marsh,” the baron assured his counselor. 

Aaron stepped into his apartments and whirled around in surprise. Every available horizontal surface except for the beds had a potted plant on it, dimming his prospects for stealing a quick, naked bit of his bunny. The greenery was vivid and bright. Many of the flowers were in full bloom. The fire in the fireplace was burning, full on. The rooms were warm and bright, and inviting too. The door to the top of the tower was open. Pots lined the stairs on both sides. There was a veritable garden of hardy, early plants on the top of the tower too. They were not in bloom like the delicate plants in the rooms were, but they were thriving nonetheless. All of this, in two short weeks?! What in the nine hells was going on here?

“Veg to chew?” Aaron asked Rabbit, who touched each plant that they encountered, passing a hand over them like patting the heads of beloved children. Rabbit did indeed take off a leaf here and there, stuffing them into his mouth. When he smiled, his teeth were tinged with green. Frogga was right about him having quite the gardener’s thumb! 

“Amazing though this is, it’s not why we brought you here first,” Lord Marsh explained grimly. “All this nonsense about witchery from Master Bottler? Shame on him, and such a learned man too. The castle is built over the hump of a warm, underground spring, and the spring itself touches ground right under the Lady Eleanor’s Green. The soil there is warm and moist year-round, and the seeds planted in that soil carry with them the fertility of the green itself. My wife is an avid gardener too. I take pots of dirt from the green home to her from time to time. There’s not a bit of witchery to it. It’s nature’s own miracle. Do not concern yourself with Master Bottler’s blathering,” Marsh murmured. 

At the top of the tower, Lord Marsh walked the shire reeve to the north-east, and handed him a spy glass. Aaron unfurled the long, golden cylinder, and aimed it in the direction that Lord Marsh pointed. 

Night pushed twilight to the west, laying her dark cloak over the land. In the distance, the city of Friendship was burning brightly. It was not glowing with artificial lights as it usually did on dark nights. The city was burning as if on fire. Aaron could detect orange and red and yellow flames through his lens. Roaring infernos were consuming the many spires and tall buildings. Small vessels like fat, angry bees floated around one another in the air, darting here and there. Sparks were flying between the small boats. Aaron could not make out the hemisphere he had always assumed was a protective dome above the city, like a lid on a tray of food. There was a spidery, cracked, incomplete something visible, but it was not a complete dome any longer. If nothing else could have turned the shire reeve’s attention away from tackling Rabbit, tearing off his clothes, and humping him blind against the nearest horizontal surface, the full-on siege of a border city might just do the trick! 

“What do you believe is happening?” Lord Marsh asked, his voice quivering. Lord Aaron found it very comforting that Lord Marsh wasn’t dickering at all about the fact they both knew they were staring at a city across the border. There was no talk of fairy dew or old wives’ tales. Lord Marsh was a wise enough man to know that there was no point in disputing that there were cities in Mary’s Land as sure as there were cities in the Virgin Land. 

“Could a neighboring baron have laid siege to them?” Aaron wondered, his hot blood cooling pretty quickly. He had business to attend to. Humping his honey-bunny blind would have to wait. “Are they warring among themselves?” he proposed. 

“We have not launched any attacks, and neither have any of the northern barons. They are attacking each other. This is most unprecedented. What do you make of the wingless birds? How do they stay aloft? Such witchery as that frightens me a good deal more than a man who can make blooms on summer plants in early spring,” Lord Marsh tried for a nervous laugh which came out higher and tighter than he had hoped. 

“They are more like boats to my eyes, vessels which float on the air and not the water. I confess I do not know how they stay aloft, Lord Marsh. They are shooting sparks at one another. Could they have cannons mounted on them, like sailing ships do?” Aaron suggested. “How long has this siege been going on?” 

“Yesterday morning, two orange glows heralded the dawn, the usual one in the east, and this extra one in the northeast. You can imagine our surprise. It’s difficult to see much by day, but last night, we observed what you may yet see with your own eyes. A pitch battle is being waged in Mary’s Land. Baron Rossen could not tell you this in his letters, for obvious reasons.”

“Understandable,” Aaron agreed. 

“We have informed the sailing ships at port that they should make plans to move at a moment’s notice further down the coast, for their own protection. We were very discrete about it, telling them it would be better that they face Carolina pirates than Mary’s Land raiders. The ships’ captains are not stupid, any of them. They’ve got spy glasses of their own, and they know the night sky better than more of us. “

“It was prudent to forewarn them,” Aaron agreed. “What of the general populace?” 

“The villagers and farmers have been told to be cautious during travel, and to report suspicious activity to the knights of the village watch at once. If they see gray-clad raiders, or if they see blue-clad strangers travelling by threes as Baron Munro has seen, they are to sound an alarm. The castle watch has been doubled. The village watch comes and goes every six hours instead of every twelve. Those who can have started to move towards the south of the barony, taking up shelter with the farmers in the foothills.” 

When Aaron lowered the spy glass, Rabbit took it up, pushing himself tight against the wall, aiming the lens to the northeast. As the shire reeve moved aside to speak more privately with Lord Marsh, Rabbit pivoted to the west, to the distance where rolling twilight was allowing the first stars to appear along the horizon. Was it Aaron’s imagination, or were there more stars than normal appearing in the west tonight? Perhaps he had been in the forest too long, and had forgotten how many twinkles could ride in the clear night sky. But there seemed to be many more stars than usual decorating the western horizon.

Rabbit folded up the spy glass, sat down on the stones, and tucked himself in between the two tall plants with his hunched back against the wall. He folded his arms around himself, and folded his knees to his chest. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and rocked slightly for a moment or two. There was no denying the panic that bleached his features until he managed to subdue the show of emotion and blank out his own face. Aaron caught Rabbit’s eyes, and the young man attempted a small, weak smile which disappeared far too quickly. 

Rabbit was scared. More than scared. He was petrified. He had rushed to greet Aaron because he had been plainly afraid while Aaron had been gone. Baron Rossen was climbing the tower stairs. His playful frown distracted Aaron from Rabbit’s reactions. 

“Are you ever coming to dinner, Aaron? Your oxen-tail soup will be cold.” 

“Right away, my lord.”

“Has Lord Marsh shown you? What do you make of the hornets nest up north?” 

“Most curious, my lord. Most curious indeed. We need to keep a round-the-clock observation.” 

“Already being done, along the borders in the sentinel nests. I want you to stay close to home until further notice.”

“Yes, my lord baron.”

“This business with John Grosbeak and the maid Caroline, we will sort it out by and by, but for the meantime, it is not our greatest concern. I need you here to help me reinforce this castle. We might need to station a cannon or two up here, if you’re agreeable to that?”

“I find it very agreeable. You can fit seven in the round, if I remember correctly,” Aaron replied. 

“Can you teach Rabbit how to fire them?” 

“I’m sure I can,” the shire reeve smiled. 

“Tonight after dinner, we will make our plans for reinforcing the castle and the village. But in the meantime, soup is on!”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron grinned. 

“How can you think of dinner at a time like this?” Lord Marsh scolded his baron, patting Lord David’s round stomach. The baron laughed loudly. 

“I think of little else but dinner when I am hungry. I find I have had a great appetite these last few days.”

“Are you not alarmed by these happenings, my lord?” Aaron asked. 

“No. I feel invigorated. Nervous. But not alarmed. We do not have to worry that those poor bastards over there are gathering raiding parties and plan to move against us. They’ve more than got their hands full with whoever is bombarding them to dust,” Lord David retorted. “It does make me wonder why they are fighting among themselves though.”

“It could be a prelude to another round of Border Wars,” Lord Marsh warned as Aaron walked over to Rabbit, and extended a hand down to him. 

“Let us pray you are wrong, James. Let us pray you are wrong,” Baron Rossen answered, his voice carrying up the stairs as he descended. 

Lord Marsh followed, murmuring, “Gods above protect us from the gods below.” 

Aaron waited for them to disappear. He pulled Rabbit to his feet, and held out his hand for the spy glass. Rabbit relented the spy glass to Aaron and stood closer to his side. The shire reeve studied the northeastern glow for a moment, then turned the spy glass towards the west, towards the excess mass of twinkling stars on the distant horizon. Aaron lowered the lens, tucked it into his pocket, and studied Rabbit’s nervous face. 

“You don’t have to be afraid. Mary’s Land raiders don’t hunt rabbits. They’re after plague carriers. They gather us up and cart us away, because they need us for their unholy experiments. You wouldn’t be targeted. They won’t even notice you if I keep you well-hidden,” Aaron murmured in an attempt to be soothing.

Rabbit shook his head, giving Aaron a dubious frown. 

“You’re right. I’m lying to you,” the shire reeve confessed. “When Castle Hotchner was razed, the raiders killed their fair share of rabbits while in pursuit of the plague carriers. I will protect you to the last, you know that, but you’re going to have to learn to defend yourself, and defend the castle too, just as the baron said. Are you willing?” 

Rabbit nodded in reply, his mouth tightening with determination. 

“Have you ever manned a cannon before?”

Rabbit shook his head no. 

“Have you ever been through a raid before?” the shire reeve asked softly.

“Come along, dear boy!” the baron called out. 

“Have you?” Aaron pressed. 

Rabbit slowly nodded. His fearful trembling only increased. His eyes were filled with distant and terrible memories. Aaron caressed the thin scar across Rabbit’s throat, and the young man shuddered from his head to his feet. 

“Is that how you were injured? When you lost your voice?” Aaron asked. 

Rabbit’s bottom lip disappeared, and his eyes welled. He pushed Aaron’s hand away, and steeled himself once more. He closed his collar against the night chill, and to cover his scar. The bite marks Aaron had inflicted were livid against Rabbit’s white throat. He felt shame over them now, and caressed Rabbit tenderly in apology.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Aaron soothed. 

Rabbit bobbed his head once, twice, his eyes never leaving Aaron’s eyes. A cold fear danced up Aaron’s spine and collected in his brain. Was the young man indicating that he knew better, that he had every need to be afraid? Rabbit pulled Aaron towards the stairs, but all the while his eyes darted fearfully towards the western horizon.


	26. You Need Me

Part Six - The Stage  
Chapter 26 -- You Need Me 

 

Lord Aaron spent dinner finding creative ways to touch and caress Rabbit’s closest arm and hand, feeding him bites of food by fork and by finger, stroking his hair, and generally making a complete scene of himself. Lords and ladies and servants and courtiers alike were staring, mouths open, so much so that Baron Rossen cleared his throat a couple times, and barely restrained his happy smiles even while giving Aaron a subtle chiding about his behavior. 

After dinner, the baron dragged his shire reeve into the planning meeting, where they would stage out how to reinforce both the castle and the village against attack. Rabbit vanished down the castle corridor in the other direction. Aaron knew instinctively that he was heading towards the Lady Eleanor’s Green, and the tiny workshop that Lord David had put in place there for him in a small room off to the side of the green space. It was with much anguish that Aaron watched Rabbit vanish, but if there was any place in the castle that his bunny-boy would be safe from friends and enemies alike, it was in the same room as Frogga Ironeye. Whether she was sleeping or awake, there were few people with the courage enough to cross her to get to Rabbit.

It was almost dawn when Aaron dragged himself back to his apartments, his head spinning with cannons and trebuchets and village evacuation plans that would take less than an hour to get the entire populace of Quantico either into the castle or out to sea on shipping vessels. He unlocked the door to his apartments, cringing at how loud the snick of the metal tumblers was. He tentatively peered inside the rooms, awash with green leaves and potted plants in the faint glimmer before the rise of dawn.

Rabbit was balled up asleep in the middle of Aaron’s bed, on top of his covers. Naked. Adorable. Tempting. Aaron lingered for a moment, admiring the view, before he opened the door to the tower and climbed up the steps. He rushed to the northeast wall, pulled out his spy glass, and peered towards the city of Friendship.

As the sun’s rays hit the horizon, light beams dazzled brightly off what remained of the hemispheric structure which had once covered the distant city. Smoke was rising, an ugly, choking, churning gray cloud. The fires were burning themselves out. The small, wingless crafts were no longer in the air above the smoldering ruins. Aaron didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. The battle there had finished, it would seem, but was that good news or bad news for his own home? Aaron lowered the spy glass and said a quick prayer for the people who had been in the city of Friendship, and for their loved ones as well. 

The shuffling of boots behind him brought his attention around. Rabbit appeared, wearing a long nightshirt, and slipping his bare feet into his long boots. He took the spy glass out of Aaron’s hands, and had a look to the northeast. He was shaking his head, lowering his chin with a deep sigh. 

“Glad to see they are attacking each other instead of attacking us for a change,” Aaron murmured. 

Rabbit lowered the spy glass and gave the shire reeve a sour frown. He gave the golden cylinder back to Aaron, took him by the hand, and pulled him back inside, down the stairs, into the apartments again. By morning light, Rabbit looked undeniably grumpy, though it was distracting how gorgeous he was in that nightshirt, with those boots hugging his legs tightly. Perhaps it was the early hour making him grumpy? Perhaps it was because he had waited all night on Aaron’s bed for him, and he had not been rewarded for his dutiful patience. Whatever the reason, Aaron knew that whatever hopeful plans he had had yesterday evening, Rabbit was not in any mood to be petted, caressed, or fondled in any way at the moment. Doing so might result in a blood stump or two if he weren’t careful. 

Aaron undressed in a sleepy daze, watching as Rabbit took off his boots and folded them up by the door, next to Aaron’s own boots. While Aaron relieved himself in the loo, behind the drawn curtain, he could hear Rabbit stirring around by the desk, digging into his trunk, sorting through pages of parchment. Aaron washed his hands, gave his scruffy grim façade a quick glance in the mirror above the wash basin, and opened the curtain once more. He strode naked to the wardrobe, tugged on a nightshirt, and turned to find Rabbit sitting on his bed. 

The young man had drawn back the covers, and fluffed Aaron’s pillows for him. Rabbit motioned him over. Aaron obeyed at once. He stood before Rabbit, not sure if where he was meant to sit, stand, or lie down. Rabbit stood up from the bed, and put a large pouch of coinage into Aaron’s grip. 

“What’s this?” the shire reeve murmured softly, peering inside. It was filled with more gold than two years’ salary for Aaron. 

Rabbit touched his own chest, and motioned back to Aaron.

“Is this your money from Master Bottler? His payment for your phial of blood?” 

Rabbit nodded to the question.

“You should keep it,” the shire reeve smiled, giving Rabbit back the pouch. “What did you do that so annoyed him that he tossed you out of his workshop?” 

The young man shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and made Aaron take the bag of coins back. Rabbit lifted a small book from his side. It was bound in leather, and the pages were blank. He took a long, thin utensil made of wood out of the desk drawer. There was a dark nub at the end. He scrawled a couple quick words on a random page, and the dark nub left a black line on the page. 

_For me._

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

‘For me’, Rabbit mouthed, his lips moving in imitation of speech. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron repeated, his concern growing. 

Rabbit wrote three words— _cost, price, gold_. Aaron blanched as he realized what the young man was driving at. 

“You don’t have to repay me for buying you,” Aaron blushed. Rabbit shook his head, and wrote two more words. 

_Me bye._

Aaron gasped, his face flooding with horror and hurt. His eyes welled. Rabbit was leaving? At a time like this? Panic rushed Aaron’s system like a feverish chill. His horror must have showed on his face. Rabbit was completely puzzled over Aaron’s emotional reaction. He scratched out the words, and rewrote them.

_I buy me._

Aaron took a deep breath, calming down somewhat. 

“As I said, you do not have to repay me.”

_You need this._

“I don’t care about the money. I care about you,” Aaron insisted. It was true though – he could have used the money. The point was, he didn’t want the money. 

_I buy me._

Rabbit wrote the words again, pushing the book emphatically at the shire reeve. Aaron shook his head.

“I don’t want you to repay me.”

Rabbit shook his head no again. He heaved up a painful sigh, and stared at the ceiling. He tapped the page with the utensil, but wasn’t sure what to write.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Aaron admitted. 

Rabbit was tapping the flat utensil against his jaw. Dark dots appeared on his cheek. Aaron sniffed, licked his thumb, and dabbed at the black marks. Rabbit’s chest was vibrating. Was he pining in annoyance and frustration? 

_I own me?_

He wrote the words and pushed them at Aaron. 

“Yes. Of course. You’re your own man. I own you in name alone. If you want to leave, I…. I won’t stand in your way,” Aaron whispered, heart in his throat, stomach churning. “But…. I….hope you would want to stay.”

_Leaf?_

Rabbit was confused. He scrawled a forked line, and added heart-shaped adornments. It was a tree, Aaron knew. 

“Leavvvvvve,” Aaron stressed the ending, then was afraid Rabbit would misconstrue that it was a command. 

_Leave? Depart?_

“Yes?” Aaron nodded. 

Rabbit was shaking his head no, brow furrowing. He crossed out both words. 

“You don’t want to leave?” Aaron brightened. 

Rabbit shook his head no emphatically, and wrote another word.

_Bond._

Aaron sucked in a quick breath. 

“What do you mean?” 

_You bond to me?_

“YES! I have bonded with you. We have bonded together. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too! I…. I can’t imagine what it would be like, not having you at my side. I realize I’ve known you only a short time, but… you mean… you mean the world to me. Two weeks away from you was like death. Last night, coming home to you, having you in my arms, if only ever so briefly……” Aaron rambled joyously until he realized Rabbit was not smiling, and not looking happy. He looked relieved, yes, but his happiness was secondary to the relief. 

_Bonded._

Rabbit wrote the word, tapped the page, nodding as he wrote more words.

_You desire keep me?_

Aaron grinned at the words, sniffling in spite of his efforts to control his swinging emotions. 

“Yes, I desire to keep you. Oh gods! I’ll die if you leave,” the shire reeve whimpered, latching both arms around Rabbit and hugging him so close that the young man had to struggle to take a breath. 

Rabbit put one arm around Aaron, who let the pouch drop to the stone floor with a heavy thump. Rabbit dotted consoling kisses on Aaron’s shoulder, his neck, his cheek. He had no choice but to put down his book too. His other arm went up around Aaron’s neck. 

“Don’t go,” Aaron pleaded, clutching a bit too tightly around Rabbit’s waist. The young man turned him around, edged him down on the mattress, and kissed him gently on the forehead. To Aaron’s disappointment, Rabbit reached back and picked up the blank book once more. 

_I do not wish to leave. Need you too. Very much._

Rabbit wrote the words, and smiled faintly. Aaron growled with excitement. 

“I am all yours. I need you so badly too,” he confirmed, one hand sliding between Rabbit’s long legs, riding up his thigh. Rabbit shook his head, and tapped the intruding hand to make Aaron stop. 

Rabbit shook his head, and exhaled heavily.

_No. Wrong._

Aaron read the words and laughed. 

“What do you mean, wrong? I don’t care what anyone thinks. Who I want to warm my bed is not the business of the entire barony. If I want you between my sheets, then I’ll have you there,” Aaron retorted. “With your permission, of course.”

_U.C.K._

Aaron brightened, hands going up Rabbit’s nightshirt again.

“You forgot a letter. I thought you’d never ask!” 

Rabbit crossed out the word, lowered the book, and stared seriously at Aaron. Lord, shire reeve, and master all three – the man sheepishly retracted his roaming hands, folded them across his lap, and pouted. Rabbit tapped him on the chin with the flat utensil. Aaron raised his eyes hopefully as Rabbit wrote more words.

_No. Bad. Wrong._

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll change your mind on that,” Aaron mused. Rabbit was turning redder by the second.

_Later we touch. Kiss._

Rabbit drew a small heart next to the words. Then he drew an X over the heart.

“Cross your heart?” Aaron asked. 

Rabbit patted him on top of the head, and nodded tenderly. 

_You need me?_

Rabbit wrote the words again, and waited for Aaron to reply. The shire reeve puzzled briefly. Hadn’t they covered that already? And then it occurred to him that Rabbit might be driving at something else besides physical intimacy. 

“Do you mean to ask if I need blood antidote?” he ventured. 

The young man nodded quickly, and mouthed the word Aaron had said. He gave Aaron the writing utensil, and tapped the page. 

“A-N-T-I-D-O-T-E,” Aaron wrote the word and sounded it out again. “After yesterday evening? No,” he hummed, staring at the livid bruises and bites on Rabbit’s neck. “I can’t explain it, except to say it must be because you’re a four-hare. I don’t feel the same need for antidote as I once did. It wasn’t painful, going without the antidote while I was away, even for that long. It was painful being without you. I needed you. I wanted you. I want you still. I never want to be apart from you. Am I making any sense?” 

Rabbit crumpled his thin mouth into a bittersweet smile. 

_Doctor. Here. Help._

He wrote the words, showed them to Aaron, and sat down on the bed beside him. He took Aaron’s hand and petted it tenderly. He clearly expected this statement to have a profound impact on Aaron, and he was disappointed and puzzled when it didn’t. 

“Why do you keep asking me if I need a doctor?” Aaron replied. “The court physician can’t cure me of loving you, and neither can Master Bottler. I do not need a doctor.” 

Rabbit snorted, wrote more words, and pierced Aaron with a narrowed glare.

_I am doctor, JACKASS. I help you._

Aaron took the book away, stared at the words, and gazed back up at Rabbit.

“Who taught you how to spell that? Rabbit, you’re not a doctor. You shouldn’t jest about such serious matters,” the shire reeve frowned. 

Rabbit raised up from the bed in a huff of fury, snatched the book from Aaron, and hit him on top of the head with it. Then he hurled it across the room onto his own bed. He slammed the thin utensil down on the desktop so hard that it snapped in two. He stormed towards the tower door, but instead of opening the portal, he stood in front of it, and banged his head against it a couple times. His frustration was palpable. Frankly, Aaron wasn’t sure what he had said to cause such an angry reaction. He cautiously followed Rabbit’s footsteps, cornering him against the door. 

“Rabbit, I’m tired. I apologize if what I said came out the wrong way. I don’t mean to be cross with you. It’s clear you had a master who taught you basic apothecary skills and a bit of medicine. But that does not make you a doctor or a physician in your own right. You can’t go around calling yourself a doctor. People will think you’re out of your mind.” 

Rabbit snorted, and banged his head against the door one final time. 

“Bunny….. Come back to bed with me?” Aaron persuaded, dipping close to nuzzle Rabbit’s bruised neck. The young man whirled around, his face aflame with annoyance and fury. He was doubling up both of his fists, getting ready to take a swing. Aaron wisely stepped back, and let Rabbit stomp away. 

As Rabbit stormed out the apartment door, he lifted his hand and made a single-finger, parting gesture at Aaron. The shire reeve did not recognize the gesture, but was pretty sure it wasn’t meant in kindness. He was too tired to follow and continue their argument, though he had to admit that all the spunk and fire that Rabbit showed was making his heart tingle with amusement and pride. He yawned and crawled into bed, wondering where Rabbit would go in the castle while dressed in his nightshirt.


	27. Domestic Hostilities

27 -- Domestic Hostilities

 

“Did you two have a fight this morning?” Baron Rossen whispered to Aaron across the small table in his private study. Lunch was being served later than usual because Lord David had not risen until noon himself. 

Aaron looked up from his plate, lowered his utensils, and cast his dark eyes towards Rabbit. The young man was nibbling at the vegetables and greenery on his plate, and wolfing down hunks of fresh bread, but avoiding the bloody, rare roast beef. 

“Eat your meat,” Aaron ordered sternly. Rabbit narrowed his eyes willfully at Aaron, and pushed the beef closer to the edge of his plate. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Lord David murmured. Ashleigh bit back a tiny smile, giving Rabbit a sympathetic pat on the hand. 

“You were being so sweet to each other at dinner last night. What is the matter with you two?” she asked. 

“He is obstinate,” Aaron pouted. 

“Pot meet kettle,” the Baron replied, patting Aaron’s shoulder. 

“You are not an easy man to live with, Master Reeve,” Ashleigh said. 

“You two need to kiss and make nice before evening,” the baron chided. 

“Why is that?” Aaron wondered, reaching for Rabbit’s lunch plate. He meticulously diced Rabbit’s roast beef into bite-size pieces, and then held one up for him to accept. Rabbit looked nauseated. He dug in his lap, pulled up the blank book, and turned to a clean page. 

_Crass._

He wrote the word and showed it to Aaron. 

“I don’t understand,” the shire reeve frowned. 

_Jackass._

Rabbit wrote the word, then closed the book, tucking it into his lap again. 

“Finish all your food, or you’re going to back to bed,” Aaron frowned. 

“Aaron, the beef might be a tad rare for his tastes,” the baron smiled. “Take the broom stick out of your butt, and give him a chance to explain.”

The Baron motioned to Rabbit, pointing under the table. 

“Rabbit, use your words. It was my suggestion that he get the blank book. Good idea, yes?”

“Yes and no,” Aaron murmured. 

“Oh, so you don’t like it when he can talk back to you, eh?” the baron grinned. 

“Do you abstain from eating meat the way some of the holy men have taken vows against luxuries like butter and wine?” Ashleigh asked. 

Rabbit thought about what she had said. Some of the words must have been unfamiliar. He was frowning. Finally, he shook his head no. 

“Utter nonsense,” Aaron fussed. “That is the whole reason why we keep cows – to eat them. They are livestock. We care for them because they give us milk, meat, and hides. Hooves for aspic. Calves heads in jelly. Mmmm. Yummy.” Aaron was wielding the bite of beef at Rabbit again. 

“Aaron, stop tormenting him. Let him eat his vegetables, if that’s what makes him happy,” the baron muttered. “You two can argue all you want for the next four hours, but come six o’ clock, I want you dressed, and happy, and getting along like wine and cheese.” 

“Why?” Aaron asked again. 

“The Lady Julia will be joining us for a performance at the Wooden Planks, and I will not have you two spatting like fishmongers and making a scene. Come now. Kiss and make nice. I do insist.”

Aaron put the bite of bloody beef into his mouth and chewed, humming and moaning with delight. Then he gave Rabbit a wolfish grin. Rabbit took a sip of wine, and gave Aaron a frosty stare. 

“Aaron, my dear boy, that is precisely opposite of what I meant,” Lord David sighed. 

The shire reeve took a heavy gulp of wine, facing his master again. 

“I apologize, my lord baron. His stubbornness brings out the worst in me. Tell me about her,” Aaron requested. 

“Who?”

“The Lady Julia. Tell me about her. Why did she above all others capture Rabbit’s fancy that day? I confess, I do not recall her face.”

“She was not there. She sent her man in her stead. He read her message, and left it in the pack of scrolls, and departed for home again.”

“You have met her. What’s she like? Is she young? Fair of face? Kind of heart?”

“Are you jealous?” Ashleigh wondered. 

“I find it very disagreeable that Rabbit agreed to breed with this woman, and therefore I should like to know more about her, so that I may dislike her in her full glory.” 

“Try as you might, you will find nothing dislike about the Lady Julia,” Lord David promised as Ashleigh shook her head and chided Aaron with her eyes alone. “To begin with, she is not going to be breeding with your Bunny-boy. So you can stop being jealous at the idea of them trysting behind your back.” 

“But I thought that was the whole point, that they would be breeding together,” Aaron puzzled. Rabbit was mouthing one word, softly, repeatedly. Aaron watched him, wondering if the word was ‘jackass’. He reached under the table and playfully squeezed one of Rabbit’s knees. The young man’s long legs jumped up onto his chair. He batted both hands at Aaron’s intruding fingers, and to the shire reeve’s surprise, he snorted softly. 

‘He is ticklish behind his knees,’ Aaron understood, and he catalogued that knowledge away for later. Rabbit fought back a smile, and scooted out of reach. 

“I told you, she had a curious proposal, and I think that was what intrigued Rabbit, and why he chose her. Am I correct, young man?” the baron asked.

Rabbit nodded dutifully. 

“She is a rabbit herself, and a skilled breeder to boot. Her proposal is that instead of asking Rabbit to copulate with thirty or forty different female rabbits in an effort to produce more four-hares and better antidote, that she would take the necessary samples from Rabbit, and as in animal husbandry, perform the implantation task herself.” 

“What?” Aaron mumbled. 

“She’s quite renowned for her prized horses and goats,” Ashleigh explained. “It’s the same concept, except with humans.” 

“Could you explain her proposal in more basic terms?” Aaron mumbled. 

Rabbit snorted quickly, took out his book, and wrote on the page. Whatever he flashed at Aaron made the shire reeve blush. 

“No. You do not have to use little words. Simply be frank. What is the Lady Julia proposing?”

“She will ask your bunny-boy to fill a flask for her. As she does with her animal livestock, she will introduce the contents of the flask to selected females. Rabbit never has to be physically-intimate with those females. He doesn’t even have to see them naked. My word, you are jealous, aren’t you?” Lord David smiled in a kindly, concerned manner. 

Aaron opened and closed his mouth a couple times, made a shocked face, and then stared sideways at Rabbit. The young man couldn’t meet Aaron’s face.

“Don’t worry. The female rabbits will be chosen from a group of willing volunteers. No one will be forced to do anything they do not wish to do. You have nothing to be jealous of. He is remaining faithful to you, as it were, while at the same time fulfilling his promise to the Lady Julia as well. It’s a remarkably salient solution,” the baron said, lifting his goblet. 

“What happens if…. What if…. I mean… if this works?” Aaron wondered. 

“We do sincerely hope it works, after all this trouble,” Baron Rossen remarked with a chuckle.

“Who will care for Rabbit’s bunnies?” Aaron asked, his voice growing hoarse. The bittersweet longing returned. Would it be possible that they could raise one together? He suddenly wanted that so much, with all his heart. He wanted nothing more than to hold Rabbit’s child in his arms. 

“The Lady Julia has offered to do so, but the decision lies with Rabbit,” Ashleigh answered. 

“How many female rabbits does she mean to….erm….implant with Rabbit’s….um… whatever?” Aaron asked. He hated that he could feel his face warming at this suggestion. 

“She has selected three to start with. They await only your permission, as his master, before taking a test sample and beginning the process,” Ashleigh replied. 

“Do you find this agreeable?” Aaron asked Rabbit. The young man emptied his goblet of wine. Although Rabbit’s head bounced ‘yes’, Aaron could sense more than a little hesitation in his reply. “There are those who might jump at the chance to breed with a long list of very select female rabbits the old fashioned way? Not you?” Aaron ventured carefully into his question. Rabbit’s droll amusement was fading fast. He touched pencil to paper. 

_I must not. No thank you._

“Not your cup of tea?” Aaron smiled. 

Rabbit shrugged both shoulders and struggled to keep his face neutral.

“Use your words,” Aaron purred tauntingly. 

_Conjux. U.C.K. Forbid?_

Rabbit wrote the letters, stopped, and crossed them out. He didn’t know what to write in their place. 

“Have you been bred before?” Aaron surmised. 

Rabbit nodded as he refilled his wine goblet to the brim, and exhaled. He lifted the goblet, and hid behind it. 

“Not a pleasant experience?” Aaron worried, his sympathy welling. Walls were going up around Rabbit emotionally. The look the young man gave Aaron begged him to change the subject. 

“How fresh does…. When she asks for a sample…. How…” Aaron didn’t seem to know how to ask the question he was forming. To his surprise, Ashleigh piped up brightly.

“One to two hours is the maximum optimal time between ejaculation and implantation.”

The Baron chortled softly. 

“Aaron, you’re as red as that hideous dress of Guinevere’s,” Lord David mused. 

“How do you know so much about this process?” Aaron asked Ashleigh. 

“I grew up on a farm, my lord. It is the same procedure used for livestock. Besides that, I have spoken at great length with the Lady Julia. She actually asked me if I wanted to be her first test subject.”

“With my blessing,” Baron Rossen smiled. 

Aaron’s chest swelled up in surprise. He bit his bottom lip, and darted a nervous glance between Rabbit and Ashleigh, Ashleigh and Rabbit, and back at the baron finally. He wanted to cry with despair. 

“What did you say?” Aaron pined softly in distress, his voice trembling. He wasn’t sure why he was distressed, only that he was suddenly completely frantic at the idea of Rabbit and Ashleigh having a child together. He wanted a child with Rabbit, but he didn’t want… he wasn’t sure what he wanted, but not Ashleigh. Not that he had anything against her. Gods, no. She was a lovely person, lovely woman too. But…. The two of them together, sharing a child, sharing what Aaron could not be part of? The idea of that wounded him to the core. He wanted Rabbit’s child, but not by anyone that they knew. 

“I politely declined, my lord,” Ashleigh admitted. Aaron flooded with relief, exhaling dramatically. 

“Good,” he huffed. “Thank you.” 

“I was afraid it would cause hard feelings between us, and I do so want to avoid that,” she promised. 

“Thank you, my lady,” Aaron repeated. 

Rabbit scooted back again towards Aaron, and put his hand on his arm, patting him tenderly. Had he felt Aaron’s wave of distress at the idea? 

“Well, that’s a start, least ways,” the baron approved.


	28. Tonight's Performance

28 -- Tonight's Performance

 

“Penny for the orphans, sir? Penny for the babes? Bless you, my lady. Bless your kind soul. Penny for the orphans, my lord?”

Aaron couldn’t recall the last time he had been to a performance at the Wooden Planks. It had most likely been before the Lady Patricia’s terrible death. How many years ago had that been? He wasn’t sure. From the entrance he could see inside the theatre, but the line was moving so slowly. 

Customarily, the upper class lords and ladies who favored live theatre performances had special boxes which lined the top tier of the tall, majestic, in-the-round stage. By perching in the upper rafters, the high society didn’t have to mingle with the lower classes below. They could come and go by private doors, and were not forced to interact with the commoners. 

The theatre itself was vast. The heavy, wooden stage took up an enormous portion of the structure. There was no curtain across the front of the stage – only a pair of open doorways to each side in the wings, and a thin high curtain which hung from the very back of the stage in order to hide moveable scenery and props which would be pushed up front when required. 

While the upper classes spent the plays in creature comfort in their private boxes, out of the rain or the bright sun, Aaron did not envy them. What a lackluster experience it must be, trying to enjoy a performance from the rafters! Baron Rossen had taught Aaron that down in front was the place to be. He didn’t sit in a high, lofty perch like some spoiled, speckled pigeon. Lord David preferred to be parked down and center so he could view the entire play close-up. He was not in the very first row, but he was close enough to smell the burning pots of flame which lit the front of the stage. 

Lord David liked his plays best if they were bloody and historical, full of gory battle scenes, dethroned kings, unfaithful spouses, slayed maidens, and mythical monsters. The occasional romance plot would be tolerated, as long as it ended badly, with the star-crossed lovers dead on the planks. Unlike many of the nobles, those who came to the play to be seen and to be noticed, to be admired and to be envied, Lord David came to the theatre because he reveled in the action and the adventure of it all! Aaron wondered not for the first time, all things being equal, if Lord David had once entertained the notion of joining an acting troupe and running away into the wind. 

What a free and easy life that must have been! Rather like Mother Flora and her Blackbirds. It would not have been a life of comfort, but at least you would be your own master. While there were people who viewed actors as being little better than highwaymen and whores, Lord David treated all actors with great dignity and admiration. He was known to shower favorites with gifts and money, patronage and power. There had been many a lean year after the Lady Patricia’s death where Lord David could not even look at the theatre from a distance and not tear up. But when word had spread that Lord David was attending plays again, escorting Ashleigh and the shire reeve’s four-hare rabbit as well, the audiences started filling up the Wooden Planks once more, not only for the play, but for a glimpse at the four-hare rabbit!

It wasn’t unusual for a trip to the theatre to cost a few pennies, not just in terms of paying the price of admission, getting a fine suit of clothes to wear, and buying candied apples or roasted peanuts or an orange from the vendors. There were always beggars at the theatre entrance, hands out, hoping for a bit of cream off the top as it were. If you could afford to go to the theatre, you could afford a penny for the beggars. Aaron found it very interesting that those most likely to give were those that had the least, and those who would storm past, or brutally shove the beggars aside, they were invariably well-heeled, over-perfumed lords and ladies who could have spared a handful of pennies, not just one. 

“Penny for the babes, my lord?” 

Aaron directed his attention away from the shuffling line, and towards the blonde woman standing off to the side of the entrance. Maybe he noticed her because for a beggar, her comportment was ram-rod stiff and all-business. Her gray eyes were not cruel, but not frivolous either. When he saw her, Rabbit’s face lit up. He blinked back the tears that filled his eyes. A grin played with his mouth. 

The beggar woman’s clothes were strange – she was wearing trousers beneath her carefully-tattered skirt. Aaron could see the ends of her pants legs. Her boots were also concealed beneath the dark material. Her boots weren’t decorative as most ladies’ boots were. These were made of bright, polished black leather – not the boots he would have expected a beggar woman to wear. They were dirty, but it was fresh mud. Her blouse was ill-fitting, too loose, and too new. She might have been wearing the most becoming thing she owned. But it was strangely ill-fitting on her. The blouse was dusted with dirt, as was she, but the dirt was fresh, and on the surface layer only. She didn’t smell bad either. There was a hint of roses and lavender about her. 

The light-skinned blonde woman had a dark-skinned, muscular man standing behind her. His dark eyes fell on Rabbit and froze there. He lit up with joy, and interest, and concern. Aaron thought the man looked like a few of the strong-arm pirates he had come up against in the Carolinas, and he immediately felt defensive in his presence. The man must have felt the same about Aaron. The shire reeve put a protective arm around Rabbit’s waist, and glared hard at the obvious interest that the other man was showing in Rabbit. 

Lord David gave the beggar woman a handful of coins. As she curtsied low and deep, her eyes devoured the baron, and the way the crowd reacted to him. 

“Bless your kind soul, my lord,” she murmured as she rose back up. She exchanged a significant glance with her companion. And yet, a second later, the baron was but a memory. 

As the Baron went through the entrance with Ashleigh on his arm, a hush fell over the crowd already in attendance. Everyone bowed and swept aside for the baron and his rabbit. As Aaron and Rabbit got closer to the beggars and the entrance to the theatre, a careful smile warmed the blonde’s face. She nodded to Aaron, but she only had eyes for Rabbit. 

“Penny for the babes, my lord?” she asked. There was something strange about her voice that Aaron could not put his finger on. Too practiced. Too perfect. Her accent was odd. Aaron was digging coins from his pocket. He dropped them in the woman’s hands.

“Gods protect you,” Aaron said in reply.

“Bless your kind soul, my lord,” she answered. When the young woman was allowed to center her full attention on Rabbit, her mouth quivered with a hint of emotion. Just as Rabbit often did, she too worked hard to push that emotion back down below the surface.

“Penny for the orphans, Master Reed?” the beggar woman asked. Rabbit reached into his cloak, drew out his leather bag, the one he had tried to give to Aaron this morning. He placed the heavy coins into the beggar’s hands, and she whistled in surprise. The man behind her didn’t even look at the bag. He bowed his head to Rabbit, who bowed his head in return. 

Aaron pulled Rabbit into the theatre finally. Many of the people nearby were gaping openly at the pair. Aaron nodded politely to everyone who acknowledged him. Rabbit blushed at the unwanted scrutiny, and stayed by Aaron’s side. Whispers announced their presence. Rabbit’s presence, anyway. A four-hare rabbit was an oddity to wonder at, a jewel to admire. Rabbit kept trying to hide behind Aaron, his eyes fixed on the floor rather than on the people who nodded and bowed to them as they passed. 

“That beggar knew you by name. I see you have developed a reputation for generosity with the poor,” Aaron teased tenderly, hugging Rabbit’s arm. There was something about that idea that fit Rabbit so well – a tenderness and generosity of spirit. Rabbit gazed longingly back at the entrance. The beggar woman and her companions were watching Rabbit even from this distance. 

“He gave away coins aplenty last time too,” Lord David confirmed.

“You should be careful doing that,” Aaron warned. “Someone might decide to bang you on the head and strip you down to your native pinks.” 

“I already cautioned him,” the baron smiled. “Oh! She is waiting for us. Do hurry.”

Aaron’s head popped up in the direction that Baron Rossen was hurrying, pulling Ashleigh behind him. A blonde woman was seated very near to where Lord David usually planted himself, on the self-same wooden benches that everyone else sat on. When she saw that the baron was approaching, the woman rose to her feet and turned to face him. Two large men and one teen stood with her. They were all dressed in similar blues and whites. The gentlemen bowed as deeply as the lady curtsied.

The first thing Aaron thought was that the woman couldn’t possibly be the Lady Julia. She was old enough to be Rabbit’s mother, for gods’ sakes! She wasn’t pretty either. She was bland. Forgettable. Matronly. Maybe even edging towards portly in her middle age. She was not the lithe, beautiful creature he feared she would be.

The teen who stood at her side was without a doubt her son. He had her bland features and blond hair, but blue eyes instead of brown. There was something distrustful about the boy’s gaze, as though every person he met might be a potential threat to himself or to his mother. He was protective of her, no doubt, and she of him. 

“The Lady Julia of Honeybee Leigh, may I present Lord Aaron of Hotchner, my Shire Reeve.”

Baron Rossen made the introductions brief, because a squeal of sound was heard behind the curtain at the very back of the stage. Two people were arguing, and not in sotto voce. Aaron bent and kissed the Lady Julia’s hand, which was free of a wedding ring. 

“You dirty whoreson!” a man was swearing. Aaron was suddenly alarmed that a lady might hear such words. His eyes rose to the Lady Julia’s face. She was trying not to laugh. 

“That’s pretty fucking rich, you bastard, considering we’re brothers!!” came the heated reply.

“This is the Lady Julia’s son, Lysander,” Baron Rossen continued, indicating the teen. “Her companion, Max. Her other companion, Val.”

The baron was making introductions, but his attention was keenly centered on the stage. Max and Val were brothers by the looks of them, very similar in features, Aaron decided as they three bowed to each other. Large, blond, muscular, and dangerous. Their muscular bodies looked stuffed into their fine clothes. The shire reeve’s brain processed the two men as a set, and lodged them in his mind that way for safe keeping. 

“You have a fine taste in companions,” Aaron murmured to the Lady Julia. She gave a surprised start, and then forced on a smile. 

“Thank you, my lord,” she commented uneasily. 

Aaron decided there was a bright side after all. If the Lady Julia already had these two, handsome men competing for her attentions, she surely had no reason to also covet Rabbit in that manner. If these young men were the epitome of what the lady desired, Rabbit was not her type. Standing next to these men, Rabbit was thin, wiry, and even more androgynous in appearance. More beautiful than ever. Aaron found courage in the thought that the Lady Julia was unlikely to want to add Rabbit to her collection. His courage allowed him to smile gently at the Lady Julia, to bow and kiss her hand a second time. 

“So glad to finally meet you, Master Reeve. I do hope that we shall become fast friends,” the Lady Julia murmured to him, curtsying once more. 

“If you are kind and gentle with my companion, and do him no harm, I am sure we will be friends,” Aaron promised. The Lady Julia smiled broadly.

“The play is about to start,” Lord David called out. 

The commotion at the very back of the stage erupted from behind the curtain, and rolled and raced forward. Two men in costume, leather doublets, breeches, and high boots, were clashing swords, dancing around in elegant combat. A hush fell across the audience as patrons hurried to get to their seats. Torches were lit above the top rafters, and light rays danced off the brilliant blades.


	29. Who Walks the Night?

29 -- Who Walks the Night? 

 

It was at the end of Act Three when Rabbit patted Aaron’s arm and made to stand up from his seat on the wooden bench. Others in the audience were taking a moment to stretch as well. Rabbit had more than that in mind. Aaron gave him a questioning glance, and then felt the same urge in his bladder that Rabbit must have been feeling. They both had apparently had too much wine. Rabbit had been squirming since the end of Act One. He was anxious to depart. 

“Hurry back. You don’t want to miss Act Four!” the baron called out as Rabbit leapt over and through the legs and feet which blocked his path, and rushed on ahead. Aaron could not keep up. He was surprised at how swiftly Rabbit moved through the crowd, sliding to one side, then the other. 

Instead of turning down the hallway towards the designated loos, the rooms where chamber pots were available in semi-private (Just you and the other twenty people who needed to relieve themselves! Don’t be shy!) Rabbit kept on going down the hallway, turned right again, and moved steadily through the people milling about the rear entrance of the theatre. Aaron followed at a distance now, making sure he was close enough behind to see where Rabbit went, but far enough back that Rabbit could not tell that he was being followed. Though would he not assume that Aaron had followed him? Maybe he thought Aaron had turned off into the loos.

Rabbit crossed through the milling stage performers, past their curtained doorways, towards the open exit. They hardly took notice of him – they were too busy scurrying around looking for costumes or practicing their lines. Rabbit bowed to a pair of women who actually took notice of him and giggled to each other at his approach. He smiled politely, deftly slipped past them, and raced out into the night air. 

Aaron’s heart was in his throat, but admittedly, his senses were burning with excitement too. Where was Rabbit going? Aaron’s thoughts turned to the blonde beggar woman, the one at the entrance, the one who had been too familiar with Rabbit. The way she had smiled when their eyes met? Aaron’s imagination picked up that thread and followed it through a maze of possible conclusions. 

Was Rabbit rushing out into the night to meet with this mysterious beggar woman? Who was she to Rabbit? Aaron knew somehow that they must be acquainted! It had been all over their faces when they had been standing next to each other. Was she a friend? A lover? A sister? A wife? Was Rabbit married? Was THAT the reason he did not wish to have physical sexual contact with other females? Was that the reason he had not allowed sexual conduct with Aaron (beyond those blissful kisses and the wicked things Rabbit could do with that beautiful mouth)? 

Aaron bowed as he swept past the two giggling actresses, and out into the night. He saw Rabbit turn a corner up ahead, and he raced to catch up to him.

HE KNEW IT!! A cloaked figure was waiting around the next corner, ducking into an alley as Rabbit went past. Rabbit stopped, retraced his steps, and went back and forth nervously. A hand reached out, and drew Rabbit in between the buildings, one brick and one wooden structure. 

There was a one-sided exchange of words – how many similar such conversations had Aaron had with Rabbit?! The shire reeve’s heart was pounding loudly as he crept closer to the alley where Rabbit had disappeared. Aaron could not make out what was being said. There were fractions and parts of words that he recognized, but not entire words.

It wasn’t the blonde woman at all. It was her muscular friend, the man who had stood behind her at the theatre entrance. This strange man had both arms thrown around Rabbit, and was greeting him in a very familiar manner. The man was reluctant to let go of Rabbit, but Rabbit was pulling back, touching his wrist, shaking his head. 

“No habit tempest,” the man agreed as he wiped off his face. A second later, he was poking a finger in Rabbit’s chest, and words flowed in a deep, angry whisper. He was admonishing Rabbit, no doubt about that from either his body language or from Rabbit’s response. Rabbit hung his head. It was hard to tell if he was agreeing or disagreeing with what was being hissed at him, because his head moved in something of a circle, bouncing back and forth. He finally pushed away the other man’s pointing finger. 

The other man dropped the argument, whatever it was about, and dug around in the pouch at his waist. Rabbit raised his chin, staring at the sky, closing his eyes. The other man pulled a small, wooden box out of his pouch. He placed that black box, three inches by three inches, against Rabbit’s throat, right over the area of his thin scar. 

Aaron gasped out when three red eyes came to life on the small box. Rabbit’s hand went up, and his eyes came towards the area where Aaron was hiding himself, but the muscular man pushed that hand gently away. He cooed soft words, and the three red circles blinked open and closed, open and closed, in sequence, until they all three turned green.

Aaron rubbed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. When the red eyes turned green, the unfamiliar man tucked the box back into his pouch, and studied Rabbit with tender concern. Rabbit was wheezing, and rubbing his throat. He bent down at the waist, taking deep breaths. The other man patted him gently on the back, murmuring more words. The way his voice rose at the end, Aaron knew it was a question, but he could not grasp hold of the words themselves. He crept closer to hear to their conversation.

“Reed?” the muscular man questioned. 

Rabbit straightened up, his face white and clammy. He licked his lips, and quelled his queasy stomach.

“Come with me? We can leave?” the man asked.

Rabbit shook his head no.

“I stay? Protect you?” 

Rabbit shook his head no, but he was smiling faintly. 

“You must return, or be missed?” the man suggested. 

Rabbit nodded in agreement, and then bolted up straighter. Someone was approaching from the opposite direction with the authoritative stomp of heavy boots and the clatter of metal armor.

In his efforts to see and not be seen, Aaron had not heard the approach of his own night watch. He had had no idea until the two knights appeared. Considering how much noise they were making, that was unforgiveable on the shire reeve’s part. Aaron dipped back into the darkness, not wanting to explain why he was where he was and what he was doing. On one hand, it was good that they had not been crept up on by thieves or villains, but still in yet, Aaron chided himself for not realizing that the night watch pair responsible for this section of the village would be coming by eventually. 

“Who walks the night?” called out one of the guards. The stranger wanted to bolt, but Rabbit put a hand on his arm to still his flight. The younger guard held up his torch and shed more light on the two of them. It was Robert of Stafford and Edward of Moss Side. Robert was swarthy, rough-spoken, and crude. Edward was molding himself in Robert’s image, but he still bore the nervousness of youth. 

“Halt where you are. Identify yourselves. What are you two doing skulking about in dark alleys this time of night?” Robert, the older guard, demanded. 

“Here for play. Outside for air. We will leave,” the dark-skinned man insisted. As he bowed deeply to the pair of guards, his hand went into the pouch at his waist. 

Aaron was more than unnerved when the guards both drew their swords without warning, backing Rabbit and the stranger up against the wooden structure. The other man’s hand came out of his pouch, and stayed clenched in a fist at his side. 

“Out for air, my ass. Out for cock, more the like,” Robert of Stafford mocked. “We ask again. Who walks the night?” he demanded, staring Rabbit up and down with distaste. “Cat got your tongue, pretty whore?” he leered, one hand coming forward to toy with the edge of Rabbit’s collar. 

“Reed,” the other man growled in concern. 

“I know your face, don’t I?” Edward, the younger guard, asked Rabbit, who raised his hands slightly higher, and bit his mouth closed. “Bob, better back off. This one is the shire reeve’s bunny-boy.”

“I thought he looked familiar. Master Tight-ass’s pretty whore! I should have recognized him! Bet your new master would be very concerned to find you wandering the night, letting yourself out this way,” Robert laughed. “We ought to tie you up and drag you back to him. Wonder what the attraction is. Maybe I should see for myself.” 

Rabbit’s eyes were starting to widen as the guard’s hand moved down from his collar to grasp his wide belt. 

“Stop where you are, whoreson,” the stranger warned as he flared angrily.

The guards laughed at him. Edward pushed his sword against the man’s throat to keep him from moving. Rabbit begged the man to be quiet, but the stranger could not do so. Rage filled his entire frame. 

“You are unfit to touch a clark, filth!” the strange man howled. 

Robert was unbuckling Rabbit’s belt, lifting the hem of Rabbit’s shirt, laughing all the while. The stranger reacted, lunging for Edward instead of Robert. He struck the younger guard’s face, knocking him out cold on the ground with one punch. His torch clattered away, landing on the cobblestones, lighting the dark alley from an odd angle. 

Robert forgot all about Rabbit as the younger man dropped downward and rolled out of reach. The stranger turned his attentions towards Robert now. His hand was mid-swing, but it was transforming, sprouting extensions. Aaron blinked not believing his eyes. There was an unholy, hissing sound. 

Robert brought his sword around, aiming for the stranger, but his swing was going to come right down on Rabbit’s bowed back! The other man had thrown a fist, a punch, which had expanded into a full-sized quarterstaff of what appeared to be solid wood. He whipped the thick staff around gracefully, deflecting Robert’s glancing blow, sending the older guard’s sword dancing across the stones of the alley. The stranger backed Robert up against the brick wall with the thick staff across his Adam’s apple. 

Rabbit touched Edward on the ground, feeling his neck, and tenderly wincing as he touched the livid bruise on the side of the man’s jaw. He tossed the second sword out of reach with the first. 

“Unharmed, Reed?” the muscular man asked Rabbit. 

The young man responded with a nod, refitting his buckle, and patting the other man’s leg. Rabbit rose slowly, carefully to his feet. 

“I can dispatch him?” the stranger asked hopefully. 

Rabbit emphatically shook his head no. 

“He touched you unlawfully, without oath. He must die.”

Rabbit shook his head no again.

“He touched you without oath. He must die. The law is firm.”

Rabbit grabbed the strange man’s shoulder, lowering the staff gently. To Aaron’s surprise, the man was obeying what Rabbit had commanded. 

“I kill him later,” the man menaced Robert. 

Rabbit pulled the staff away, and it shrank down in his grip until all that was left was the portion hidden in his palm. He pushed his hand into Robert’s face, and for the smallest fraction of a second, so quickly that Aaron wasn’t entirely sure he had even seen it, a blink of blue light went directly into the guard’s right eye. Robert’s face went blank. He slumped sleepily down to the ground, leaning back against the brick wall as he collapsed. 

Aaron’s hands went up over his mouth, muting his startled gasp. He struggled to keep quiet as his heart pounded violently in his chest. That blue! That evil, eerie blue! He had only seen it once, but he would never forget it as long as he lived! It was the same as the blue flames that lit the top of the boom sticks that Mary’s Land raiders carried! He felt chilled to the core, terrified suddenly. Rabbit knelt down in front of the stunned guard, tested his pulse in his neck, and stared in concern into his blank face. 

“Fear not. He come ‘round soon,” the stranger promised. He clapped a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder as the younger man stood upright again. Rabbit returned the object, and the other man secreted it back into his pouch. Rabbit pointed back in the direction of the theatre.

“You must away. Yes. I will be near.” 

Rabbit nodded. The other man patted him on the chest, and then vanished down the other end of the alley, disappearing into the night. Robert was awake, and soundlessly watching Rabbit, his face blank as a newborn child’s. Rabbit waited by his side, taking his hand, patting it gently. Edward was beginning to rise up from the ground as well. He rubbed his face, grasped around for his weapon, and gulped in horror and panic. 

“Who walks the night?” Edward shouted, scrambling around. He picked up the torch, held it aloft. “What happened? Bob? Robert? What happened?” 

Robert did not answer. Rabbit hefted a shoulder under the older guard’s armpit, and helped the younger guard get him up on his feet. Aaron withdrew back into the darkness of the shadows, and watched Rabbit put an arm around the man’s waist, helping the younger guard move him through the streets towards the guard station.


	30. Rush of Emotions

30 -- Rush of Emotions

 

“You missed all the excitement,” Baron Rossen chided as Aaron found him and Ashleigh milling outside the theatre among the departing crowd. 

“I needed some air,” Aaron lied. “You can tell me all about the end of the play on the walk back to the castle.” 

“Where is your bunny-boy? I had hoped that you two had gone off together in order to reconcile. But here you are, without him?” 

“Ah. There he is,” Ashleigh interjected, raising a hand to wave. 

Rabbit emerged from the courtyard across from the theatre, from between Master Mangler’s Meat Pie Shop and Longenecker Tavern. He was red and sweaty from exertion. Robert had been heavy, and the guard station was several blocks from the alley where the exchange had taken place. Aaron simply couldn’t wait to hear how the night watch was going to explain this! As if on cue, an alarm rose a few blocks away. The other pairs of night watch guards were coming together, congregating to discuss the situation. The morning’s report should be very interesting indeed. 

“I lost him in the crowds. There he is, indeed,” Aaron agreed, waving as well, attempting to put on a happy face. 

The shire reeve’s mind was whirling with questions upon questions, like leaves dancing in an autumnal maelstrom. Having watched Rabbit interacting in a familiar manner with that strange man and the beggar woman, it brought home to Aaron how little he actually knew about the man he was preparing to take him and sleep in the same room with. Maybe even in the same bed with. It should have frightened him, not knowing what Rabbit was capable of doing, and yet, strangely, it did not scare him. Had he not seen into Rabbit’s heart by observing his actions? Rabbit had had it in his power to harm or even kill Robert and Edward. But instead, he had prevented his friend from harming them, and had even helped the two men back to their guard station. These were not the actions of someone with an evil heart. That didn’t mean Aaron wasn’t angry at Rabbit for wandering away for this mysterious meeting, but at least he could trust that when he put his head on his pillow tonight, he was going to wake up in the morning with it still attached to his neck. 

Rabbit crossed the street through the pedestrians and the carriages, looking weary and nervous. He cleared his throat, and bowed to them. 

“The Lady Julia is sorry that she had to leave before she could say good night to you. Master Reed, she expects you tomorrow at Honeybee Leigh, at your leisure, for the initial examination, if that pleases you, Master Reeve?” the baron asked, patting Aaron on the arm. “I said yes in your stead. Hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all, my lord baron. Thank you.” 

Aaron grasped Rabbit by the arm, not roughly, but not gently either. 

“I lost you. Where did you go?” he demanded. 

Rabbit moved his hand, waving it next to his face, breathing in and out, in and out. Aaron watched his eyes for hints of deviousness, but there was none. Rabbit was frightened, yes, unnerved, yes. But he was not being deceitful. 

“You were hot? You needed air?” Aaron asked, his tone sharper than he intended. He couldn’t help being angry that Rabbit had rushed away, that he had met with that stranger, that he was keeping secrets from his master. Aaron could not stamp down this jealousy bubbling in his heart. 

Rabbit nodded vigorously to the question. 

“You look rumpled. Was the salty air rough with you?” Aaron asked sourly, his voice just above a hiss. 

Rabbit looked embarrassed, taken aback at the tone. He stared down at his clothes, giving his shirt a quick tug, and straightening his belt. Aaron thought about how frightened Rabbit had looked when the guards had started touching his person, making comments about him being the shire reeve’s pretty whore. Master Tight-ass? Is that what the night watch called him behind his back? Would Rabbit not attempt to tell Aaron what the guards had tried to do to him, how they had spoken to him? 

“Did someone lay an unwanted hand on you?” Aaron asked. 

For a fraction of a second, there was a sad look on Rabbit’s face. A look of resigned humiliation. He shook his head no to the question though. Aaron let his anger rise again to the surface. He was furious that Rabbit did not trust him enough to tell him what had happened! 

“I have warned you repeatedly not to wander. Yet you refuse to listen and obey me. I am past the point of patience with you. We will continue this conversation at home, and I will decide your punishment there.” 

Aaron ended with those terse words of warning. Rabbit sensed he had crossed a line, but he wasn’t sure at what point, to be honest. He put a hand on Aaron’s arm, and the shire reeve folded that hand into his own, clutching it possessively, even roughly. 

The Baron blathered endlessly on the walk back to the castle, up the hill, through the guard tower pass-thru (no need to lift the portcullis at this hour). Lord David was grinning, alive and vibrant with excitement. Aaron could not help the warm feelings in his chest at how happy his master had been made by the small, diverting trip to the theatre tonight. But the moment Aaron’s eyes landed back on Rabbit, his anger and jealousy welled back up to the surface. 

Aaron said good night to the baron and to Ashleigh at the stairs to the front tower. The baron frowned with displeasure when Aaron took Rabbit by the elbow and began to march him upstairs to their apartments. Aaron didn’t say a word, but his anger was easily read in the rough manner with which he pulled Rabbit up each step, and across each landing. 

By the time they reached the apartments, Aaron was seething. He unlocked the door, threw down the key inside on the stone floor, and pulled Rabbit over to the hearth rug. He whirled him around and held him tight by both shoulders. 

“I have warned you before not to wander. Have I not?” Aaron demanded.

Rabbit nodded, closing his eyes. He wasn’t struggling. He was shaking, and his face was blank. Aaron froze as a small form darted away from the fireplace. Flames were starting to rise there. One of the youngsters who was new to the castle, a maid by the looks of it, watched them with fear in her wide eyes. Aaron had not realized she was there until the flames she was creating jumped to life. 

The shire reeve let go of Rabbit’s arm as he faced the child. 

“Who are you? Why are you here?” he demanded, all his fury coming out in his words. 

The tiny maid flew to the door, yanked frantically on the knob, and was gone in an instant. Her small feet pattered down the steps as she raced away. Aaron followed behind her. He closed the door, turned the lock, and took a deep breath before he faced Rabbit again. 

The young man was sitting on the ground, watching the flames in the fireplace. He was panting for breath and shaking. When Aaron approached, Rabbit skittered underneath the heavy table, pressing himself against the wall. Pain and regret bloomed in Aaron’s heart, and radiated out through his chest, his arms, and his soul. The shire reeve walked over to his bed, and sat down with a deep sigh. 

“Rabbit, come,” he ordered, pointing to the floor beside the bed. 

The young man stayed under the table. 

“Rabbit, now. Come,” Aaron repeated. He took off his boots and pushed them to the end of the bed. Took off his belt and tossed it there as well. “Don’t make me drag you out by your hair,” the shire reeve growled. 

Rabbit didn’t crawl out from under the table, sniveling and shaking, pleading for mercy as Aaron had expected he might. The young man launched himself out from under the wooden structure and flew at Aaron in anger, fists swinging. Aaron gave a startled shout, dodging one fist only to get another one in the jaw. He scrambled down onto the floor, wondering if getting under his own bed wasn’t a good idea. Rabbit flailed and kicked and swung. Aaron dodged another barrage, and got lucky. He captured one fist, held tight to that wrist, and struggled to get a good grip on the other one. 

Aaron would never have admitted, not in a million years, but even as he was taking a knee to the groin, even as teeth sank into his shoulder, he could not have been more delighted with Rabbit. It was not amusement he felt, but it was pure pride at the fact that Rabbit had come out swinging. When he thought about the bruises and marks which covered Rabbit’s body, it was comforting to know that maybe the other guy had come out of the entanglements scarred and marred as well. Aaron was sorry he had to tamp down this fire. But alas, it wasn’t hard to subdue the younger, thinner man once Aaron had a good grip on both of his arms. 

The trouble was this meant Aaron couldn’t use either of his arms either. He flattened Rabbit to the nearest surface, the bed, with the only thing he had to use, his torso and legs. He was sitting on Rabbit’s middle, holding his arms above his head. They both were heaving for breath. Rabbit wouldn’t look up at Aaron. He kept his face turned away, even as Aaron went left, then right, then left to look into his eyes. As a last resort, Rabbit closed his eyes tightly. 

Aaron debated between nipping the end of Rabbit’s nose, or kissing him full on the mouth. He felt a drop trickle from his own brow. A spark of red dropped down and dotted the young man’s cheek. Aaron let go of one wrist in order to touch his own face. Rabbit had drawn blood with one of his punches. Aaron had a nick on his brow above his left eye. He snickered softly, and captured the wrist as the fist came up at his face again. 

“Truce?” Aaron ventured hopefully. Rabbit’s eyes snapped open. He was furious and not ready to trust yet. “We lick our wounds? We talk? Rabbit, I followed you. I know where you went. Who was that man? Who is he to you?” 

Rabbit turned his face away, refusing to answer. Aaron scooted up slightly, hoping the added pressure might inspire a response. It did. Rabbit got the leverage he had been waiting for. He rolled his body up, looped his legs around Aaron’s shoulders, and pulled him backwards and downwards.

The stone floor rushed at Aaron’s face. He let go of Rabbit’s arms, and shielded his head from a broken jaw and a crushed nose. Aaron landed on his shoulder, rolled over, and snatched wildly at the end of Rabbit’s cloak as the young man scrambled off the end of the bed. Like a lizard dropping his tail, Rabbit unhooked his clasp and let his cloak fly free. He picked up a good-sized potted plant off the dresser, and whirled back around at Aaron, danger in his frightened eyes. 

“Put down the fern,” Aaron pleaded, both hands raised. “Talk to me. I am willing to listen, but you have to be honest.” 

Rabbit lifted the pot higher. 

“I’m sorry I was cross with you. I was worried about you! You can’t go wandering away like that!” Aaron howled. “You could have been killed, or kidnapped, or taken by slavers again. Is that what you want? I’m trying to protect you! Tell me who that man was. It’s obvious you know each other.” 

Rabbit was slowly lowering the pot. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. But you cannot, will not, disobey me again. Do I make myself clear? If this man is an acquaintance from before you came to be mine, do not fear to tell me. I do not begrudge you having friends.” 

Rabbit put the pot carefully back on the dresser. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Aaron promised. He held out a hand. Rabbit stared at the hand, and then at Aaron. He took another step backwards. “Feisty little bunny-boy,” Aaron grinned, laughing softly. 

Rabbit looked wounded, hurt emotionally by the comment. 

“Don’t misunderstand me. I do not mock you. It’s a good thing that you’ve got fire and fight in you. If you can hold me off that way, you have a better chance of holding off most comers, I would guess,” Aaron soothed, holding out his hand again. 

Rabbit moved a step forward. Aaron reached out his arm, taking Rabbit’s hand. 

“All I want to do is talk. Or write. Or….” 

Rabbit was kissing Aaron suddenly, pushing him back towards the bed, pawing at his clothes, climbing on top of him. Aaron was not ignorant to the fact that Rabbit was now pinning him just as he had had Rabbit pinned moment ago. There was anger and anxiousness in the young man’s kiss, but no violence. The shire reeve was able to pull his hands free. He slid them up around Rabbit’s waist and shoulders, deepening their kiss. 

When Rabbit came up for air, Aaron rolled him over on the bed, and gently unbuckled his belt. He pushed the hem of his shirt out of the way and tugged open the laces of Rabbit’s trousers. The young man’s cock was already hard and dripping. Aaron didn’t hesitate with tentative licks or exploratory nibbles. He dove right in, swallowing Rabbit down. 

The young man inhaled loudly. Aaron continued to suck and pull. Fingers were digging into Aaron’s skull. Rabbit got hold of an ear, and Aaron spent a moment or two wondering what he’d look like without that ear. Rabbit wasn’t tugging hard though. He was directing Aaron’s movements. He squirmed around, and helped Aaron lower his trousers down past his hips, past his thighs, down to his knees. That made it slightly less difficult to get between Rabbit’s long legs. Those slender thighs dropped open. The fingers that clutched at Aaron’s skull were pulling him closer, not pushing him away. 

Aaron smiled to himself. He must have been doing something right, at least. He stopped holding so tightly. He began to caress at Rabbit’s thighs, up around his backside. He kneaded and stroked his balls tenderly. The young man’s hips bucked, and his back contorted. He was tapping Aaron on the head in warning. 

Aaron stopped, releasing Rabbit’s cock, giving him a final, teasing flick with his tongue. He slid Rabbit’s supple boots off his feet, which allowed him to remove Rabbit’s trousers finally. He put his hands on either knee, and leaned in for a gentle lick along Rabbit’s length, where he encountered bite mark scars along the underside.

Knees collided with both sides of Aaron’s skull. He coiled his hands around Rabbit’s slender thighs, and eased them apart again. Rabbit was petting Aaron’s hair, not trying to make him stop, but making sure he had a handhold if he needed one. Aaron understood instinctively why Rabbit was scared. When your blood and tears and body fluids are considered edible, even delectable, there wasn’t a man or woman alive you could put your entire trust in. It was nothing personal against Aaron. 

“Show me what you want,” Aaron whispered, nosing kisses along Rabbit’s bared abdomen. He eased the young man’s shirt laces open, and then lifted the shirt away over his head and shoulders. Aaron gently licked Rabbit’s four-hare tattoo, admiring his naked form. 

Rabbit swung a leg over Aaron and stood up from the bed. Aaron was left startled and horrified for a long moment. Had he done something wrong? Aaron sat on the bed and held his breath in fear. Rabbit ducked inside the loo, snatched up one of the phials of scented bath oil, and returned to the bed. He put the phial in Aaron’s hands while giving a tiny, hopeful smile. 

“I’m out of my depth here,” Aaron stammered. 

Rabbit pulled Aaron to his feet, and made quick work of stripping him, dropping the shire reeve’s trousers to the floor. 

“Show me,” Aaron mumbled shyly. He caressed Rabbit’s curls as the young man mouthed kisses on the inside of Aaron’s thighs to get him to lift his foot. 

The shire reeve landed back on the mattress, minus his trousers and underwear, with Rabbit between his legs. The young man popped open the scented oil, filled his palm, and stroked Aaron expertly with one long-fingered hand. 

“I’m sure I could have managed that much without instruction,” Aaron commented dryly. Rabbit nipped at Aaron’s shoulder, breathed against his neck, and opened the phial again. This time, he coated Aaron’s hand, or more specifically, his thick fingers. 

Rabbit climbed onto the bed, and Aaron stroked him while watching his expression. It was one of pure bliss, tinged with impatience. He was on the right track, but this was not what Rabbit wanted. The young man wasn’t unhappy about being touch, per se, but Aaron could sense that more was required. What else should he be doing? Should they be doing this at all? What about Rabbit’s insistence that this was wrong and forbidden? In the back of his mind, Aaron had to wonder too if this seduction wasn’t about distracting him from talking about the stranger Rabbit had rendezvoused with in the alley. 

Rabbit took Aaron’s hand by the wrist, and directed it downward between his balls, and further back. He relaxed against the mattress and parted his long legs wide around Aaron, planting a long foot on either side of him. When one of Aaron’s fingers brushed Rabbit’s entrance, and the young man shuddered with pleasure, Aaron began to get the drift. 

“Here?” Aaron asked, caressing him a second time. Rabbit’s eyes stayed closed, but he was nodding emphatically. Aaron paused, swatted him on one hip, and pulled him up again. Rabbit’s eyes opened, puzzled and confused. “Turn over,” Aaron ordered sternly. “Up. On your knees. That’s it.”

Now that Rabbit was up, long legs parted again, Aaron didn’t wait. He pushed one finger deep inside, and Rabbit trembled as if he’s been struck by lightning. Aaron was afraid at first it had been exactly the wrong thing to do, but Rabbit began to slowly slide forward, backward, arching his back as he did so. Aaron was a bit preoccupied, watching Rabbit’s little butt moving as his entire frame quivered. It finally clicked in Aaron’s brain what he should do next. He positioned a second, slickened finger, and pushed carefully in. Rabbit’s hands clenched through the bedcovers. He continued to pleasure himself with Aaron’s hand, to the point that Aaron was feeling left out. Without the usual accompanying noises, and without seeing Rabbit’s face, it was hard to know if he was doing this correctly, except that Aaron could read the shivers and trembles that were making Rabbit’s body quiver. And he could sense Rabbit’s soaring emotions through their bond as well. 

The deeper Aaron’s fingers caressed, the more Rabbit arched. He was having trouble staying upright. Why was Rabbit reaching for Aaron’s hand this time? Aaron captured one wrist, then the other, holding them both behind Rabbit’s back. Aaron toyed with Rabbit, stroking quickly and roughly inside him, enjoying watching him quake and buck. Rabbit held tight to Aaron’s hand, all ten fingers clenched like talons, shivering.

“I can manage from here,” Aaron scolded with humor in his voice. He maneuvered his way between Rabbit’s thighs, and pushed the tip of his cock against Rabbit’s stretched entrance. He seated himself in one slow slide. He could feel Rabbit’s entire body grow lax, could feel the pleasure and completeness that filled his soul as deeply as Aaron was filling his body. 

They moved together, awkward at first. Aaron held Rabbit’s thin frame, guiding his hips. At least this part was familiar. It took only a few thrusts before Rabbit’s cock was twitching, thumping hard against his abdomen as Aaron pounded him, hips slamming, thighs aching. Rabbit shuddered wantonly as Aaron took complete control of him, bucking, writhing. He was trying to hide his emotions even in this most-intimate of moments. He buried his face in the pillows, shoulders on the mattress. What did he have to hide? Why did he have to be so secretive? Aaron’s anger and possessiveness were surfacing again. He could feel them flowing in his veins as he pumped faster. 

He wanted to see Rabbit’s face. He wanted to watch him come. He wanted to possess him, own him, prove how much he loved him, and prove how much he needed him. He also wanted to cement in Rabbit’s mind who was the master here. 

Aaron pulled out of Rabbit, and turned him over roughly on the bed. He parted those long legs with a quick smack, and thrust inside him again, clear to the hilt, lifting Rabbit’s hips to ease the way. Being draped over Rabbit’s back would have been easier, but Aaron much preferred this instead. He lifted Rabbit’s bent legs, planted hands on either side of his shoulders, and started to pound into him once more. Merciless, hard, demanding. The frame of the bed was not going to take much more of this!

Rabbit’s skin flushed with scarlet and white patches over his chest and shoulders and face, quickly becoming red-hot to the touch. He was not unhappy with the rough treatment. He was gasping for breath, eyes shut tight, chest vibrating with soundless cries, his full mouth open. Aaron couldn’t wait to be back inside his mouth as well. Rabbit’s arms and hands shrank inward, downward, wrapping over his head. He continued to want to hide what he was feeling, but it was impossible because of the bond between them. 

Aaron pushed apart the elbows that were threatening his nose. He leaned down and in, nipping at Rabbit’s chin. Then he latched onto Rabbit’s neck and sank in his teeth. He sucked with each thrust, drawing antidote he didn’t need but which he desperately wanted nonetheless. 

Long arms wrapped themselves around Aaron’s shoulders, holding on tight. Long legs clutched around Aaron’s heavy body. A warm wet mouth sought a kiss. Aaron obliged. He let go of Rabbit’s neck, and their teeth clattered together as their lips met. Rabbit sucked his kiss feverishly, leaving lips bruised and swollen. Aaron broke the kiss, whispering syllables and half-words into his ear. Rabbit came with a deep inhalation, jetting sticky wetness between their bodies. 

Watching the erotic expression on the young man’s face had been a powerful drug for Aaron. Once experienced, he longed for it again like nothing else. A powerful force was building in the pit of Aaron’s body. Rabbit could feel it too, through their connection, through the conduit which transmitted a rabbit’s feelings to his master, and the master’s feelings back again. Rabbit was pliant and boneless, glowing with pleasure and adoration and gratitude, washed with emotions he tried so hard to hide. He was glistening with a sheen of sweat, making Aaron thirsty and needy at the same time. 

Aaron cried out with release, and in his mind, he was sure he had heard Rabbit’s voice as well. The rush of emotions back and forth between them, through their bond, left Aaron dazed for several moments, not even taking into account how spent the sexual contact had left him! He really was getting old, he chided himself. 

Once he caught his breath, Aaron gazed down at Rabbit beneath him. The young man’s hazel-amber eyes were practically smoldering. Pleasure crackled around him almost like visible energy. Aaron nuzzled Rabbit’s collarbone, up his neck, under his chin. 

“Do I pass muster?” Aaron wondered. Rabbit’s face split with a wide, naughty grin of affirmation. He patted Aaron’s ribs, and rubbed his back. “Would you care for a sip of wine?” Aaron rasped, licking the hollow of Rabbit’s high throat. He paused, carefully touching his thin scar with kisses. It felt as though there might be scar tissue more under the surface. He could feel a hard ridge beneath the scar itself, almost a band of scars. 

Rabbit nodded slowly even while nudging Aaron away from his neck. He edged towards the side of the bed. 

“You stay. I’ll get it,” Aaron crooned softly, dotting kisses to Rabbit’s cheek, his hair, his nose. The shire reeve headed for the door, grabbing a robe on the way there. He retrieved the key from the floor, and put it in the lock, glancing back at the bed. Rabbit was lying on his side, watching Aaron with a fuzzy, sleepy expression on his face. He had one arm under his head, and the other was pulling a sheet around his nakedness. 

Aaron turned the key, and opened the door. He expected to find a chamber maid or two wandering around at most. Instead, the hallway was awash with a veritable sea of faces – courtiers, pages, counselors, and the like. In the middle of the crowd stood Baron Rossen, holding up a single candle. Every last one of those assembled sprouted the same sheepish grin at the same moment. 

So perhaps it was the business of the entire barony who the shire reeve wanted between his bedsheets? 

Aaron tugged his robe more tightly together, and scowled in undisguised annoyance at the lot of them. 

“The maid….” Lord David began, clearing his throat. 

“My lord, forgive me if I frightened her,” Aaron replied.

“I was worried in a fit of pique that you might harm our dear friend,” the baron continued, giving an embarrassed chuckle. 

“No…. we…. I….”

“What happened to your forehead?” 

“Nothing,” Aaron blushed. “Wine?” he requested, catching the eye of one of the familiar chamber maids, who blushed and curtseyed and darted away. 

The baron was dodging up, and then sideways, and then up again in a clear attempt to peer into the room and find Rabbit. Murmurs and whispers were passed back and forth between courtiers and pages. Now everyone was straining to see around the shire reeve. Even in the dim light from the fireplace, it was easy to see clothes strewn about, bedclothes tossed around, pillows on the floor, Rabbit’s boots and pants in a tangle, half on and half off the bed. 

From behind him, Aaron felt the touch of fingertips. A skinny, bony form pressed itself to his back. A chin touched his shoulder. Timid panting brushed behind his neck as Rabbit retreated, ducking entirely behind Aaron’s broad frame. The shire reeve glanced back, and encountered sandy locks. He glanced downward, and caught a glimpse of a long tail of bedsheet, a hint of leg, and one slender foot next to his own. Aaron put an arm backwards, and managed to touch the far side of Rabbit’s slim waist. 

Lord David was smiling again. He stroked his pointed beard and chuckled. The crowd in the hallway murmured their approval with sighs and smiles. There was even a smattering of light applause. Could this moment get any more humiliating, Aaron wondered darkly?

“Well, carry on then,” Baron Rossen commanded heartily, dashing off in the direction of the staircase. “Come along. Give them some privacy.”

The chamber maid returned with a tray of wine and a few small dishes of finger food—big, fat olives, raw oysters from the bay, bread, cheese, tiny salty fish, and the like. It occurred to Aaron that this must have been prepared in advance. Someone had known it would be needed. The maid set the tray into Aaron’s grip, curtseyed to him, and rushed away to the end of the train of people who were following the baron down the tower staircase. 

“You owe me a hundred gold pieces,” Lord David was taunting Lord Marsh. “Did I say tonight or not? Yes, I did!” 

Aaron closed the door again with one foot, balancing the tray as he gave Rabbit an apologetic grimace. Rabbit leaned against the door, turned the key, and clutched it tight in his grip, holding it against his chest. He was panting with dismay. 

“Privacy? No such thing as privacy ‘round these parts, is there?” Aaron commented on his way back to the bed. “Like sporting in a fishbowl!”


	31. Rabbit's Workshop

Part Seven - Fertile Soil  
Chapter 31 -- Rabbit's Workshop

 

When Aaron woke the next morning, Rabbit was not beside him. He fumbled sleepily around the mattress. Nothing remained except the warm impression of where Rabbit’s slender body had been. The shire reeve rolled over, frowning, his heart turning towards gloom. He didn’t like waking up alone. Rabbit’s bed was empty, and his boots were gone. The door to the tower was open. The sun was not yet up. The spy glass was gone from its place on the shelf. So was the navigational orb. 

Aaron couldn’t find his own nightshirt. He pulled on a robe and climbed the tower steps, dodging potted plants. As he reached the top of the stairs, he could see Rabbit, spy glass turned towards the west. The young man was lit by the distant torches on the guard towers. The reason Aaron could not find his own nightshirt was because Rabbit was wearing it. The white material flapped in the winds like the Rossengild banners which whipped and snapped on all the towers of the castle. Rabbit’s hair was haloing around him. For a moment he seemed to embody everything Aaron needed – Adventure, Excitement, and Danger. The shire reeve wanted to grab hold and hang on for dear life. 

Aaron crossed the top of the tower, dodging around plant pots and cannons. Even without the spy glass, Aaron could see that there were far too many shining lights massing on the western border, far in the distance. Rabbit had his blank book open on the edge of the tower wall. He glanced through the spy glass, and paused to jot down notes, before moving the glass slightly right, and jotting again.

Aaron stood a few feet behind Rabbit, and watched this process for a several seconds. Rabbit had sensed that Aaron was there. As the sun was breaking the eastern horizon, beams of light scattered across the Virgin Land. Bells began to toll in the chapel tower, six bells to announce the hour, and the smattering of smaller bells to herald the arrival of the dawn. The bells were much louder out here in the open. 

Aaron felt a horrid cold chill as the light beams went westward, and there, oh, there, for a fraction of a second, was that a shimmering echo of movement in the sky, not more than a day’s travel away? He couldn’t call it an overwhelming shadow. That would have been too much. It was no more than a trick of the eye, a play of light on the trees, or perhaps the play of light across a flat metal surface hanging high above the tree tops? 

Rabbit tapped the broken pencil to the blank page, shaking his head, hanging his chin downward. Aaron cleared his throat, reached around, and took hold of the spy glass. He lifted it and aimed towards the west, towards the forests. Those were Mother Flora’s trees. More flashes played with his eyes, light skimming across a flat metal surface the way that beams would play off a sword turned at the correct angle during battle. Aaron felt protectiveness swell in his heart, and he said a quiet prayer. Whatever the name of the god of the blackbirds, He had better be watching over that ragged band of skinny, hungry highwaymen. 

Rabbit closed the book around the broken pencil. He sat down on the stone floor, shivering, holding the book close to his chest. Aaron put the spy glass in the pocket of his robe, and sat down beside Rabbit. He tentatively slid an arm around Rabbit, and rested his chin on the young man’s shoulder. 

“You are safe with me,” the shire reeve whispered. 

Rabbit choked and snorted, his face suddenly contorting with pent-up emotion. He covered his face with both hands and struggled to control himself. His book slid to the ground, and the wind pushed it open. Although there were blank pages near the end, nearly three-quarters of the book was filled with words. There were conversations that Aaron recognized, pages of large, ungainly, immature letters. But there were other pages filled with strange notations in a language that Aaron did not recognize. Aaron put both arms around him, and Rabbit buried his face in Aaron’s chest. 

“Whoever is chasing you, whatever is chasing you….” Aaron continued, but his voice trailed off. What could he say, what could he honestly do, not knowing what Rabbit was afraid of, and not knowing how he could help? 

Rabbit was getting a grip on his panic, tamping his emotions back down. Aaron stuck out a foot and brushed his toes to the wooden base of the nearest cannon. 

“These can take down a host of men on horseback in full armor at a half-mile. I’m sure that seven of them in turn can handle almost anything you throw at them.” 

Rabbit was smiling faintly, shaking his head at Aaron. He took one of Aaron’s hands and rested it over his heart. Rabbit closed his eyes, and held Aaron’s hand. The golden morning light poured over him like a halo of color and warmth. Aaron leaned in and nosed away a single tear, drinking in the elixir. He nosed kisses along Rabbit’s cheek, and held him close.

* * *

“Honeybee Leigh is an hour from here by carriage. I think it only prudent that you take an escort,” the baron stressed as he and Aaron walked through the corridors below the private tower. “Highwaymen? Bandits? Jealous barons? Slavers who have heard tell of your four-hare prize?”

“Please, no escort. We will be fine. How fares the night watch?” Aaron wondered. 

“How fare you?” Lord David grinned openly. 

“I fare well.” 

“And your companion?” 

“We both fare well. The night watch?” 

“One of the guards slipped and hit his head on the bricks, and another seems to have taken up drink.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Edward of Moss Side was full of fanciful tales about mysterious strangers with magic staffs and other such nonsense. Fairy dew. Or one too many whiskey and ales. I’m not sure which. But considering that his patrol partner Robert of Stafford was falling down drunk, and has no memory of last night whatsoever, I’m willing to venture a guess it has more to do with having a pint while on patrol. You know how I frown upon drinking on duty. I do not begrudge a man a pint once his patrol is finished. Patrolling the village is a tiresome, tedious task. You’ve done it. I’ve done it. Some nights you need a pint at the end of your rotation. But you know as well as I do that if word gets ‘round that two of my night watch were falling down drunk while on duty, the populace will be less likely to call upon the night watch when they are truly in need.”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron agreed. 

“What if a real emergency had happened while those two were having a drink and relaxing in their favorite tavern? An alarm goes up? They’re too deep in their cups to respond properly? It’s shameful.”

“Do you think there’s any truth to what Edward of Moss Side claims?” 

“You’d better hope not,” the baron remarked grimly. 

“Why is that?” Aaron asked, his voice rising nervously. 

“Edward claims that he and Robert happened upon your Rabbit in sexual congress with a beggar man, the one from the theatre.”

“Oh?” Aaron chuckled lowly, then frowned deep. 

“When questioned about who they were and what they were doing, the stranger responded by knocking Edward out cold and then attacking Robert.” 

“I see. And what was Rabbit doing while this was going on?” 

“That’s the curious thing. When Edward woke up from the punch that dropped him to the bricks, the stranger was gone, and Rabbit was tending to Robert, as a doctor would tend a wounded patient. Those were Edward’s exact words. Rabbit helped Edward take Robert to the guard station. While Edward was explaining to his fellow guards what had happened, Rabbit vanished into the night.” 

“A most curious tale,” Aaron murmured. 

“Where is he, presently?” the baron asked as he paused outside the door to the Lady Eleanor’s Green. 

“In the library.”

“Occupied?” the baron inquired.

“For at least a few minutes,” Aaron answered. 

Both men took a deep breath, and turned the knob, pushing the heavy wooden portal. A wave of warmth and wetness hit them both in the face as they stepped through. Aaron took a deep breath and stared around in amazement. Where once there had been chaos and anarchy, now there was order. The broken pots had been restored or replaced. Vines were trimmed and tamed. Roses bloomed along the best wall, racing each other up the side of the tower. Ivies and clematis were winding over the arbors and trellises. Herbs of every known variety were in pots which lines the walks, and in tidy rows in the beds themselves. 

The baron walked by all these marvels without a second glance. Aaron stopped often and looked around, amazed. Rabbit had done all of this? All by himself? 

“Quite the green thumb,” the shire reeve whispered.

“I’m thinking of making him the castle grounds-keeper,” the baron joked, drawing closer and closer to his mark. They were headed towards the semi-circular pool in the middle of the green, the font of the holy spring over which the entire castle had been constructed. Aaron crept behind the baron. The Baron’s feet barely touched the ground. In they crept, closer, closer, until finally, the baron paused, took a breath to steel himself, and walked around the last large pot. 

Sonorous, sleepy croaking greeted them. There she was, in all her cursed glory – Frogga Ironeye. The baron trembled, his face a grimace of unspeakable horror. He spun away, looking in any direction but at the female mage. Aaron wanted to turn away – how he wanted to turn away! But he couldn’t. He was frozen to the spot. 

Frogga was simply hideous. Her body was bloated. Her limbs were folded upon themselves in ways an ancient woman would never have been twisted. She was slumped against her favorite bench, one webbed foot in the water pool. Her skin was green and shiny, covered with warts and dots. Her single eye was bulging out of her head, covered with a thin green lid. Her hair was gone. Her tiny head had stretched outward at the bottom, and her neck had disappeared entirely. Her staff was clutched in one webbed hand. Though her mouth was closed, her throat inflated and deflated with each inhalation and exhalation. That was the source of the croaking noise. 

“Oh. I forgot. You haven’t seen her like this before, have you?” the baron murmured, reaching back to lift Aaron’s hanging bottom jaw.

“I thought…..I….” the shire reeve stammered. 

“No. The curse is real. Every time she falls asleep, this is what the Lady Eleanor becomes. Breathing, is she?” 

“Yes,” Aaron murmured, watching Frogga’s throat inflate and deflate. “How long has she been like this?”

“Nigh on three weeks,” the baron replied.

“No, I mean, the curse. How long has she endured this?” 

“Nearly six decades?” 

“Who did this to her? Why? Was she punished by the court apothecary for exercising the dark arts?” 

“No. Rather the other way around.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The Lady Eleanor did not take up magic until after she had been cursed and banished. It seems she has a talent for it, alas. She was forced to live by her wits, and there are very few better equipped than she is for that task.”

“But who did this to her?” 

“No one knows,” the baron whispered. “One day she was laughing and happy, toasting my uncle at a jousting tournament, and the next moment, she took a drink from her golden cup, and that was the end of that. She swooned with faint on the spot. She took ill, and had to be carried away. When the moon rose that night, the curse fell upon her, and her fate was sealed.” 

“How long do you think she will sleep?”

“I do not know.” 

“I guess it must take a lot of energy to turn thirteen men into toads and back again.” 

“I suppose it must,” the baron agreed. “Do you want to test her for a pulse?” he added impishly. 

“No….” Aaron whimpered. 

“Come on, lad. One of us must confirm she is alive. You can run faster than I can,” the baron tormented in a jovial tone he hadn’t used since their days in the army. 

“I would prefer not, sir, if it is all the same to you,” Aaron refused.

The baron stifled a loud laugh, which drained away to sadness and sympathy again. 

“No, let us not make merry,” he said as he was dragging Aaron away backwards. “Let the poor woman sleep. She may stay as long as she pleases. I bear her no ill will. She deserves the rest. She visited great kindness on me as a boy. I should like to return the favor.” 

To Aaron’s surprise, they weren’t headed for the exit. Aaron felt Lord David pulling him towards the door to the small workshop that the baron had set up for Rabbit’s personal use. The baron pulled a key from his pocket, one identical to the key that Rabbit carried in his appropriated pouch. 

“Let’s have a glance around, shall we?” Lord David suggested, undoing the bolt. 

Inside the small room, it was as neat and tidy as the garden outside in the green. Bottles lined the shelves, some empty, some full. Ceramic work bowls were all clean and scrubbed, stacked on the wooden table that dominated the space. Bunches of herbs were hung from the ceiling, each labeled above with an alchemic symbol. The gardening tools had been sharpened and cleaned, hung in descending order from one wall. The floor itself was spotless too – swept down to the stones with the broom which was leaning in the corner. 

Aaron stood in the middle, gazing around, feeling the presence of Rabbit everywhere here. He could almost imagine Rabbit in his white nightshirt and tall boots, leather apron strapped around his middle, walking back and forth between the flames and the mixing bowls. His auburn hair would be falling in his face until, tired of pushing it back, he might twist a leather string through it, keeping it looped at the nape of his neck. Those thin, nibble fingers would be making notes in his blank book, tapping the writing utensil, jotting letters and words which made sense to him and no one else. 

“My lord?” 

“Yes, my boy?” 

“Why did you give Rabbit this workshop?” 

“No better way to know a man’s true heart than to grant him his fondest desire, and watch what he does with it.”

“Is that why you made me your shire reeve?” Aaron wondered. 

“Indeed it is.”

“You were testing Rabbit when you gave him permission to use this room?” 

“He was willing to give up his life’s blood to get a workshop. He had need of this.”

“Yes,” Aaron agreed. 

“What do you suppose your bunny-boy is up to?” the baron wondered softly. 

“I confess, I have no idea.” 

“Neither do I, but it’s time we found out,” the baron said, centering his gaze on his shire reeve. “Every morning before dawn, I see Master Reed on the top of your tower, staring towards the west. I follow his gaze, but I know not what he seeks, nor what seeks him.”

“Whatever it is, he is plainly terrified of it,” Aaron admitted.

“He works here feverishly, and with purpose. This is not frivolous play.” 

“Have you had any news from Lord William or Lord Rothmore? Have they reached Shenandoah with the Lady Guinevere and her entourage? Has anyone towards the west seen anything unusual?” 

“I have had no word,” the baron replied sadly. 

“Do you wish to send a scouting party?” 

“I do not wish to risk any of my men on such a suicide mission. The surrounding barons know enough to raise a signal through the sentinel towers if any danger is spotted. How do you feel, Aaron?” 

“How do I feel?” the shire reeve responded with another question.

“I see these many phials, and their mysterious markings, and my mind goes to the Lady Isabella, and her machinations against me. Her face is pure as gold, but her heart is black as pitch. There is something of the trickster about your Rabbit. I trust him not to hurt you, and yet, I sense there is much he has not told any of us. Is he protecting us, or is he protecting himself? I worry for you. How do you feel?” the baron asked again more sternly. 

“I feel fine. I haven’t felt this good in years. Vigorous. Like I could march from here to Culpeper in my bare feet and not feel the ground,” the shire reeve smiled in reply. 

“You continue to seek antidote from your rabbit?” 

“I do.” 

“By what means?” 

“I confess, I….”

“Not by blood? Do you crave the antidote, or do you crave him?” 

“Both, equally, I think.”

“The sexual conduct between you last night?” 

“Yes?” 

“The first? Do not be ashamed. ‘Tis healthy, and necessary, and pleasurable.”

“We had touched and kissed before but not…as it were…”

“The beast with two backs? Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“He did, though I took little persuasion.”

“Is he knowledgeable?”

“He is not a novice to the art,” Aaron grinned.

“That is the key, I know not why?”

“How do you mean?” 

“The connection between you. He needs you to need him, and need him, you do. But why is that important to him?” 

“I need the antidote to survive,” Aaron said, shrugging his shoulders. 

“That explains your attachment, but not his,” the baron pressed. 

“Rabbit is emotionally needy. Many rabbits are. They fear being replaced if they fail to please. He must have belonged to an alchemist, although I do not know what has happened to that man. Maybe that man taught him to build a strong bond between himself and his master with potions and such?” Aaron suggested weakly. “Give your master a potion to make him crave you, and your position in the master’s life will be more secure. I fear I could not live without Rabbit now. Logically, I know I would be able to do so, but my body and my soul, they need him. They crave him. Am I bewitched, my lord baron?”

“I do not think so,” the baron replied. “There is no fairy dew in your eyes. You are not being sedated into compliance. I have seen that before. Do you remember the Lady Tansy? Her husband had her drugged to keep her quiet and faithful, because he feared she would leave him if he didn’t. But you, you are clear-headed, and invigorated by Rabbit’s presence. I cannot explain it.”

“What do you suppose happened to this apothecary who owned Rabbit before he came to me?” 

“Aaron, look around you. Do not be so easy to dismiss his talents. Your rabbit didn’t belong to an apothecary. _He is an apothecary_ ,” the baron insisted. 

“Could he be a doctor?” Aaron whispered fearfully. 

“He might very well be, for what little you know of him.”

“That is madness,” Aaron refused to let the thought sink too far into fertile soil. “Who would train a four-hare rabbit to be a doctor, or an apothecary, or an alchemist either one?”

“I do not know,” the baron replied. 

“Why go to all the effort? Four-hare rabbits are for breeding,” Aaron protested. 

“Five-hare,” the baron corrected.

“I thought we had established that he’s a four-hare,” Aaron puzzled. 

“Oh no. Think back. When pressed about what he intended to do with the fourth phial of Rabbit’s blood, what did Master Bottler say?” 

“That the phial was worth all his other potions combined.”

“No. He said more than that. He said that a phial of five-hare rabbit blood is worth all his other potions combined. That is precisely what he said.” 

“Did he?” 

“He was telling us that Rabbit is a four-hare, hemming and hawing to cloud the truth. But when you put the press to him, he spoke what he could clearly see but would not admit. Master Reed is a five-hare rabbit. I can feel it. He is obviously trained in alchemy and apothecary sciences, but in a manner which spooked Master Bottler. He is potent enough to be capable of bonding you to himself in one night. But you are not being harmed by this connection to him. In less than a month, you’re in better shape than you’ve been in in years. You feel rejuvenated and alive again. The only downside is that you are convinced you can’t live without him.”

“Do you think Rabbit is playing me for a fell purpose?” 

“Whatever he is up to, this is not play, Aaron. This is not the apt pupil repeating a master’s instructions by rote, without knowing the reasons for what he’s been told to do. This is serious work and with purpose.” 

“Aye, my lord baron, so it is,” Aaron agreed. 

“Does he bring you food or wine?” 

“My lord?” 

“My thoughts turn again to the machinations of the Lady Isabella. Her poisoned home brew. Has Rabbit given you anything to eat or drink?” 

“No, my lord baron. Never.”

“Think on it. Does he offer you wine? Does he make you tea? Does he bring you bread or meat or veg?” 

“No. Never.”

“Last night, the tray you were given?” 

“I fed him, not the other way around.” 

“He’s not poisoning you through your food then.”

“If you think he is poisoning me…” Aaron murmured, going to the corner to retrieve the broom. He raised it like a weapon.

“Aaron, don’t be foolish. I didn’t mean to say that he’s poisoning you.” 

“But that is what you did say.” 

“I misspoke. I don’t believe Rabbit is poisoning you at all. It’s obvious how much he cares about you. You are in better health than ever before. You feel better than you’ve felt in years.”

“As do you. It’s clear you are feeling better.” 

“The mystery of it all invigorates me.”

“My lord baron, if you believe Rabbit is up to devilry, as did Master Bottler, it would seem, it would be better than we destroy this now,” Aaron said as he raised the broom again, ready to sweep all the tidy bottles and ingredients onto the floor. The baron put a hand on the shire reeve’s arm.

“I do not believe Rabbit is up to devilry at all.” 

“But you aren’t sure?” 

“No. All I can tell you is that when I look into my heart, I am inclined to trust him.”

“Why?”

“I do not know. But I trust him.” 

“What should we do?” 

“We need to know more about what he is up to. Touch nothing. Say nothing. But watch everything he does,” the baron advised. 

“Yes, my lord. As you wish,” Aaron agreed reluctantly, putting the broom back in the corner. 

“We shall know soon enough if he means good or ill,” the baron promised. 

They backed out of the workshop, and locked the door tight.


	32. Honeybee Leigh

32 -- Honeybee Leigh

 

Honeybee Leigh was exactly an hour northwest by carriage. Aaron would have preferred to have ridden there on horseback, but the baron had been kind enough to lend his own carriage, and so Rabbit and Aaron rode along, bumping and jostling with every lump or bump in the road. At least Aaron had managed to talk Lord David out of sending along the armed escort. 

It was an impressive manor, no doubt built on the money the Lady Julia received for providing breeding services. The approach road ran parallel to the manor. The house itself was subtle, not showy. It had two levels, and its beige stones and many windows blended well with the trees and slight hills. The gardens were truly magnificent though. The driver turned the carriage onto the lane to approach the house, and Aaron watched as the carriage rode beside patch after patch of beautiful, tidy greenery. The knot-garden took his breath away. True to the name, swarms of bees raced around the blossoms and blooms. They gathered pollen, drank nectar, and rushed back to the hives which dotted the center of each garden patch. 

As they got closer to the manor, the outbuildings behind the manor became visible. One of the barns rivalled the size of the manor itself. Several men were working there, tending and feeding and grooming small prancing goats. Was it Aaron’s imagination, or did they have a similar look? Blond. Big. Bulky. The next barn housed horses, very impressive specimens. The driver slowed down, gawked, and whistled appreciatively. 

Rabbit shuddered at the sound. Aaron took a good hard look at the young man by his side. Whatever secrets Rabbit was hiding in plain sight in his workshop, they were not foremost in his mind at the moment. Rabbit’s eyes were distant and fearful. He wasn’t in the here and now. He was reliving horrible nightmares behind those amber eyes. The shire reeve eased his hand against Rabbit’s hand. The young man shook away his dark thoughts, and his eyes centered on Aaron finally. 

“You don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable,” Aaron whispered. 

Rabbit did not respond. He pushed his hair back with both hands, collecting it at the nape of his neck and letting it fall once more. He was exuding an aura of annoyance with Aaron’s seeming naivety. The carriage was coming to a stop in perfect alignment with the front of the manor. 

“Good morning, gentlemen.” 

One of the two companions who had accompanied the Lady Julia to the play last night stood there, ready to open their door for them. Aaron stood up and stepped up. 

“Good morning, sir,” the shire reeve replied politely. Was this one Max or Val? He was dressed in homespun clothes today, as opposed to the satin and silk of last night, and though Aaron would not have thought it possible, he looked even more muscular and large. Truth was that the workmen by the barns and in the fields, they were all of a similar shape and size. Very alike indeed. Rabbit stood, steeled himself, and stepped down from the carriage. The companion smiled widely at him. 

“The Mistress will be pleased to see you, Master Reed.” 

Aaron followed Rabbit, as Rabbit followed the companion. Rabbit maintained a steady but slow pace which afforded Aaron the opportunity to glance around the manor as they were led into the front foyer. It was a square house, built low and flat, with the wings radiating from a central structure. The second story housed the sleeping quarters, and the ground level was comprised of several greeting rooms, a dining room, and a library as well. 

Rabbit and Aaron waited only briefly in the front foyer, long enough to appreciate the subtle yellow and white color scheme, and the many portraits which adorned the walls. Given that there was no family resemblance between the Lady Julia and the many and varied people represented in a variety of mediums from paint to ink to pencils to charcoals, Aaron could only assume that this assemblage represented the Lady Julia’s breeding successes. It was easy to pick out the rabbits among those represented. The master or mistress was seated, and the rabbit sat before them, right shoulder bared. 

“Think she’ll ask you to pose for your portrait?” Aaron whispered to Rabbit as the companion led them into another hallway. Rabbit frowned at Aaron, and sucked in his quivering bottom lip. They reached the end of a hallway which was painted a calming shade of blue. The companion went on inside. 

Rabbit paused to take several breaths. His hands were trembling. He put a hand on Aaron’s arm, and pointed to a stool beside the door. 

“Su---surely not?” Aaron protested.

“You must wait outside, Master Reeve.” 

The Lady Julia had appeared soundlessly from another room in the hallway. Feminine murmurs and soft laughter could be heard. A bright blue eye peered out at Aaron and Rabbit. Aaron could see the curve of a cheek, a button nose, a broad, sweet smile. The Lady Julia clucked her tongue disapprovingly, and the door shut at once. More whispering was taking place behind the portal. Soft laughter and gasps of delight were heard. 

“You must wait outside the room, Lord Aaron,” the Lady Julia insisted. 

“Is she the one you selected?” Aaron asked, pointing to the closed door. “I want to know who she is.” 

“That would be unwise, my lord.”

“Why is that? I wouldn’t harm her. Or them. Ashleigh said you had chosen three, suitable females.”

“In this matter, you must trust me. The jealousy and possessiveness a master feels for his rabbit? It can overwhelm even the most reasonable man or woman. It is better that you wait outside, and it is better that you do not know who the ladies are.” 

“You don’t trust me?”

“This is not about you.”

“But I am shire reeve of this barony. It is my job to uphold the law, to protect, to serve. Does that count for nothing?” 

The Lady Julia unknotted the laces at the front of her blouse. She dipped her back and shoulder to Aaron’s view. A massive, blistered scar covered her right arm from shoulder to elbow. She had been splashed with acid, no doubt, but by whom? Scars dribbled like the tendrils of a red sea monster down her chest, down her back, disappearing into her clothes. There was no trace of her hare tattoos, save but for tiny dots of blue which were distributed throughout her horrific red scar. The Lady Julia pulled her laces taut once more. 

“That, Lord Aaron, is why I will not trust you. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes,” Aaron nodded. 

“You will wait here until we are done. Please be comfortable. This will not take long.” 

Aaron thought perhaps those might be famous last words. And yet, the Lady Julia reappeared not ten minutes later. She stood in the doorway, and frowned disapprovingly at Aaron. 

“Master Reeve, you did not follow the instructions which I gave to our lord baron, did you?” 

“Instructions?” Aaron squeaked. The Lady Julia’s eyes narrowed tightly. He thought to himself that she could have ruled the world with one arched brow. 

“I asked his kindness to relay to you that you mustn’t have sexual congress with your rabbit on nights before we are to milk him.”

“Oh,” Aaron said in a small voice.

“Did Lord David not relay this request to you?” 

“He may have, but I must not have heard him, or perhaps I misunderstood him, or…..” Aaron replied, his voice even smaller. The baron had made no such mention, because he had likely been very keen on scoring a hundred gold pieces in his bet with Lord Marsh. 

“Not to be indelicate, sir, but how many times last night did you take him?” 

“It was give and take, if you catch my meaning. Three times. No. Four? Maybe?” Aaron found a tiny grin, but it wilted away under the Lady Julia’s increasingly-grim expression. 

“Are you sure?”

“Not entirely. My memory is a bit fuzzy nearing the wee hours. We had had a cup to drink. Or two.” 

“My lord…” the Lady Julia sighed impatiently, shaking her head, hands on her hips. “This is terrible. No drink for him, and no sexual conduct on nights before he meets with me. I have given the ladies potions meant to help them conceive. I have prepared special baths, and special meals, and all for naught. You mustn’t waste my time this way.” 

“Wait a few minutes. He’ll bounce back.” 

“My lord,” she repeated more firmly. “He is willing but he is spent. It could take days for him to recover sufficiently for our purposes.” 

“Really?” Aaron grinned brightly again. 

“You must take him home, and restrain from your usual activities for at least three days, at the minimum.” 

“Last night was a bit different for us, actually,” Aaron admitted. “Usually he’s so shy. Last night, he was unstoppable. Untamable. Unbelievable,” the shire reeve rumbled hoarsely. The Lady Julia crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot a time or two. Aaron stopped grinning again. 

“Max, release him. Master Reed, put on your clothes. I will see you in three days,” the Lady Julia called back into the room. 

Aaron could not help his curiosity. He peered into the room. He did not have any experience with breeding rabbits. He wasn’t sure what these strange pieces of furniture, wooden seats, harnesses and metal circles were for. He didn’t want to let himself imagine their purposes either. He felt chilled staring at them, with their snaking leather straps and buckles and odd shapes, at least until he spotted Rabbit strapped into one. Then his blood flared with anxious curiosity. The sight of his beloved in such a vulnerable position was both tempting and deviant at the same time. 

Rabbit was leaning over a half-table. He was bared to the skin. He had been situated down in a hollow carved into the surface. His hands were laced to two posts in front of him. The companion Max was standing behind him, undoing the straps which had been buckled over his back, presumably meant to hold him to the table. His long legs were stretched almost, but not quite to the floor. His toes could not touch. There were glass bottles to one side, and various, phallic-shaped instruments to the other side. Both the companion and Rabbit seemed rather too casual about the entire situation. Aaron wasn’t sure if he should be jealous or not. 

“Everyone out,” the Lady Julia ordered sternly. Two strange men appeared and disappeared past Aaron. Where had they been in the room? What had been their purpose? Max finished undoing the bindings, and helped Rabbit put his feet on the floor. Rabbit bent to get his clothes. Max hardly took any notice of him at all. Without a word, Rabbit dressed, adjusted his belt, slid into his boots. He bowed to Max, and Max bowed back to him. That was that. Max left the room after bowing to his mistress, and to Lord Aaron on the way out too. 

Rabbit flinched when the Lady Julia stormed up to him. She pulled a chair close, sat down, and studied Rabbit critically. 

“Young man, sit,” the mistress pointed to the floor before her. Rabbit obeyed the command without a moment’s hesitation, landing on the floor at once. Aaron stood up from his stool and entered the room, closing the door. 

“You must not be angry with him. This is my fault,” Aaron interjected. The Lady Julia silenced Aaron with one sharp eye, and turned her attention back to Rabbit. 

“Do you or do you not wish to fulfill your agreement with me?” she asked him pointedly. 

Rabbit nodded slowly in reply, wringing his hands together in his lap. 

“Why did you seduce the shire reeve last night? Even if he did not know the rules, you should be more than familiar with proper breeding procedures.”

Rabbit’s head dropped low. 

“Don’t be angry with him,” Aaron pleaded. 

“You have been bred before and roughly too. The whip marks on your back, the bites, the frenzy scars. I recognize the tactics meant to bring you to submission. Does my manner of procedure disagree with you?” the Lady Julia asked. “Not all rabbits find this doable, particularly if they have had unpleasant breeding experiences in the past. I can teach Lord Aaron how to use this equipment, if it would be more palatable for your master to bring you to conclusion rather than Max? Would you prefer a more intimate setting? I can arrange that instead, if you wish. Station myself by your bedside morning and evening, wait for your master to bring you to conclusion, take what I need from there. Would you prefer that instead?” she asked. 

Rabbit shyly shook his head no. 

“Then if we are to use my methods, you will follow correct procedure. You will refrain from sexual conduct. All sexual conduct. You will come back in three days, you will take off your clothes, you will lie down on that table, and you will do as you have promised. Is that clear?” 

Rabbit dropped his head further. 

“Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to offer to retrain you for Lord Aaron? Shall I ask him if he would like that? Would he prefer you meek and ever-pleasing, compliant instead of willful? You reek of mischief, Master Rabbit. I do not care for the scent. Would your master leave you in my care for a week or two or three or four? I could make you the perfect rabbit for him, given time,” she purred, touching Rabbit’s chin, lifting his face. “The idea of that appeals to me most strongly, Master Reed. His collar on your throat, his rod inside you until you learn your place. I sense that he would like the look of you as such.”

Rabbit’s eyes came up to Aaron, not to the Lady Julia. He squirmed slightly, dropping his head again. 

“No?” she questioned. 

Rabbit shook his head no. 

“Do not test me, Master Reed. I have a riding crop with your name on it.”

Rabbit shook his head no. 

“Clearly, my lord, he is disobedient because he has been indulged in the past. But I do not think he is a lost cause. You must treat him with a firm hand. If you wish it, I will retrain him for you,” the Lady Julia murmured to Aaron finally. The shire reeve wondered if this was making her remember her own time as a breeding rabbit. Had her breeding experiences been all wine and roses? Aaron was willing to bet they had not. She appeared to have at least a little compassion for Rabbit’s situation, even if she was annoyed with him. Had those strong words been uttered at her before? 

“I prefer him the way he is, my lady,” Aaron responded with a grim frown. 

“Very well. It is your decision. If you change your mind, the offer stands. I will send instructions and equipment, and you may try your own hand at training him. If we are to do what we have promised, we must follow proper procedure, and that includes, forgive me, restraining from sexual conduct when I say so,” the Lady Julia stressed.

“Yes, ma’am,” Aaron agreed. 

“You mustn’t let him wrap you around his finger so easily. I know how difficult that is with a four-hare. Maintaining your dominance is a must though. If you let him walk all over you, Lord Aaron, he will never learn to obey.” 

Aaron reached behind himself when he felt Rabbit’s hand on his arm. The young man stood up, leaned against Aaron’s back, and buried his face in Aaron’s shoulder. The shire reeve wrapped a protective arm backwards around Rabbit while giving the Lady Julia a very dubious glare. 

“I am firmly in control of him, Lady Julia,” Aaron promised her, even while Rabbit was nibbling on the back of his neck, purring to him intimately.


	33. The Bumpy Road

33-- The Bumpy Road

 

Rabbit pulled the carriage curtains closed the minute they stepped inside the vehicle. He straddled Aaron’s lap, rubbing and humping against him like a cat in heat, until Aaron was so hard he couldn’t stand it any longer. He picked Rabbit up and shoved him into the other side of the carriage. 

“You must obey me in front of others, or at least give the appearance of such. Is that understood?” he murmured low and deep 

Rabbit sat back, spread his legs open, and traced a hand over his own erection through his clothes, taunting Aaron from a distance. 

“The Lady Julia said you must abstain,” Aaron reminded him. “I believe she meant with others or with yourself.” 

Rabbit sat up straight with a huff, and sent Aaron a spiteful smile. He rested his feet on Aaron’s side of the carriage, easily able to breach the distance with his very long legs. Rabbit slowly unbuckled his wide belt, letting it drop to the floor of the vehicle. 

“What are you doing?” Aaron worried. 

Rabbit smiled at Aaron. He lifted his shirt hem, tucked the white silk between his teeth, and slid it upwards an inch at a time, watching Aaron’s eyes trace his flesh hungrily. 

“You have no intention of going through with any contract to breed with anyone, do you?” Aaron wondered. 

Rabbit cocked a half-smirk. He pointed to Aaron, held up on finger, and then shook his head as he wiggled his finger back and forth. 

“No one but me?” Aaron’s own smile widened. 

Rabbit bit his bottom lip shyly, and nodded in reply. His doublet landed on the side of the bench. He unlaced his trousers with delicate fingers. He wasn’t wearing undergarments. Springy curls of sandy hair were visible. Aaron sprang across the carriage, took Rabbit’s hands, and held them tight to either side of him. 

“You have signed a formal, legal contract, and I’m afraid at least as far as the Lady Julia goes, neither of us may have a choice in the matter. Behave or I will punish you,” Aaron scolded. 

Rabbit nibbled Aaron’s closest earlobe, and locked those long legs around him. He tucked his arms behind his own back, drawing Aaron’s arms around his waist in the process. He was leaving himself pinned vulnerable under Aaron’s heavy frame, open to whatever Aaron might want of him. He slid seductively against him, hips to hips, sexes brushing through their clothes. He nosed kisses to Aaron’s face. The closer he got to Aaron’s ear again, the more the puffs of air were forming words. Or rather one four-letter word, in a constant chant. 

“No, I will not,” Aaron refused. The shire reeve was quite certain Rabbit meant to seduce him again, most wantonly. What had happened to the edict that they mustn’t do this? Why was that suddenly out the window? Perhaps since they had spent the night tasting and testing and exploring each other, all bets were now off? 

Who would not have been tempted to put this rocky road to good purpose? Aaron dove a hand between Rabbit’s laces, freeing his cock, working fingers backwards. He discovered that Rabbit’s entrance was already slickened and still slightly stretched. Had Max been attempting to get a rise out of him earlier? Aaron slid two fingers easily inside, watching the young man’s face color and watching his eyes glaze with pleasure. Aaron used his free hand to finish unlacing Rabbit’s trousers, and thereby was able to wiggle three full fingers up inside him. Rabbit’s body vibrated with a pleased growl. He was riding Aaron’s fingers, legs tight together around the shire reeve, his mouth tempting and wet. 

“The Lady Julia will be most displeased with us,” Aaron warned, all the while making Rabbit buck and squirm most adorably. Rabbit was biting his lip and jerking his hips. Aaron wondered if he wasn’t being too rough, but Rabbit did not seem to mind. The breeder had mentioned giving the females potions to help in conception. Had she given Rabbit a potion to make him exceptionally keen on breeding? 

Aaron slid his other hand behind Rabbit’s neck, pulling their mouths together, tangling their tongues. Rabbit’s hips could not be stilled, and his knees were wiggling with each tickle and touch. Aaron tormented him for a good long while, taking pleasure in his tossing and turning, until Rabbit was panting desperately with need. When Aaron broke their kiss, resting his cheek against Rabbit’s sweat-drenched cheek, he felt little puffs which he knew were groans. Rabbit was squirming and begging. Aaron pulled back slightly, smiling as he watched Rabbit’s pink face.

The moment Aaron was not leaning against him, Rabbit went sliding downward off the bench and onto the floor of the carriage. Backside bared, now prostrate on his knees, he buried his face against the cushioned bench on Aaron’s side of the carriage, and wiggled his backside at his master. Rabbit waited, shaking, panting, and whimpering soundlessly. 

While Aaron was of very firm character, and he could have mastered both Adversity and Addiction without batting an eye, he was little or no match for Temptation. He wrestled his laces open and mounted Rabbit without a second care, slamming in to the hilt. It was like sinking into a hot, wet heat. Rabbit was very ready indeed. What had the Lady Julia and her companion used to get him into this condition? Why was he able to perform for his master, but he had been unwilling to perform to the breeder? 

Aaron was enjoying the bounce and jingle as the carriage jolted them together, hips slamming. Rabbit was grinding and pushing backwards to meet each hearty thrust. Oh, but this was going to leave bruises aplenty, Aaron decided! He dug his teeth into the back of Rabbit’s neck, and rode him as roughly as he pleased. 

By the time they cleared the village outskirts, and headed up the hill to the portcullis and gate tower, both men were sated, and dressed, and somewhat composed. Aaron was seated properly on his half of the carriage. 

Rabbit was splayed provocatively on his cushioned bench, smiling sleepily at Aaron as if enjoying a private humor. His wild hair was disarrayed, errant curls drooping down in his face. The same movement of the carriage which had brought him to completion twice was even now lulling Rabbit into slumber. He turned onto his back, stretched his limbs to their limits, and turned onto his other side, balling up in a tight ball. Aaron’s eyes traced Rabbit’s body through his clothes – his jacket lay on the floor, and sunlight was making his shirt nearly transparent. His new trousers were more tailored, fit his slender figure better. His boots clung to him too. 

Once again, Temptation proved too much. Aaron reached across the carriage, and swatted Rabbit right on the buttocks. 

“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” he warned with another swat. “By the gods below, I’ll douse you with cold water if you do. Wanton, willful, wicked boy.” 

Rabbit snorted playfully at him. One eye opened, then the other. Rabbit gave a big yawn. He shook himself as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

By the time they reached the gate itself, there was no sign of whatever they had been doing before. Or so they thought. Rabbit attempted to appear as pure as freshly-churned cream. Aaron, on the other hand, was adjusting his clothes, toying with his buttons, shifting in his seat. The shire reeve was an emotional wreck. Was it possible that by subduing his own emotions, Rabbit was making Aaron’s feelings more unstable? 

Baron Rossen was there at the entrance to the castle when the carriage rolled to a stop. Ashleigh stood to one side, and Lord Marsh stood to the other. From the serious expressions on their faces, Aaron understood something must have occurred here at home while he and Rabbit had been at Honeybee Leigh. 

Aaron stepped down from the carriage, and reached a hand back. Rabbit wobbled as he descended, and Aaron had to catch him with both arms. 

“Steady there,” Aaron whispered cheerfully. Rabbit gave him a broad grin which was almost as weak as his knees. Their noses brushed. 

“How did things go?” the baron inquired carefully. 

“Well,” Aaron lied. Rabbit was snorting giggles, leaning his head against Aaron’s shoulder. 

“Ah,” the baron nodded. He cast a glance at the condition of his carriage, and raised a brow at Aaron. “Would anyone like a nip of good, strong scotch?” Lord David offered pleasantly a moment later. 

“Yes, please,” Aaron responded. 

“Rather early in the morning for good, strong scotch, is it not, my lord?” Lord Marsh asked as Aaron followed Rabbit up the stairs. The young man could barely move his legs. Baron Rossen and Lord Marsh both observed this, smiled together, and then gave Aaron a chastising look. 

“Depends on the morning,” the baron replied. “Lord Marsh, be so kind as to call the war council together. Aaron and I will be there shortly.”

“Yes, my lord baron.”

Lord Marsh vanished in a different direction. Aaron started for the stairs to the tower which held their apartments, but Rabbit went off in the direction of the Lady Eleanor’s Green without a backwards glance. The baron gave his rabbit a meaningful look. Ashleigh followed behind Rabbit. Aaron watched them go, feeling Rabbit’s absence in his heart already. He fought with himself and his protectiveness, and faced the baron. 

A young page appeared at the baron’s side, decanter of scotch in his small grip. The baron smiled at the child, patted him on the head, and took up the decanter. 

“Scotch?” the baron asked, wiggling it temptingly at the shire reeve. 

“War council?” Aaron replied, pulling off the top and taking a long swig. 

“We have received messages from the west.”

“And?”

“Have another drink. You’ll need it,” Lord David recommended.

* * * 

“What do you mean, she’s gone?!” Aaron exclaimed.

“Just that, my boy. The Lady Guinevere never arrived in Shenandoah.”

“Has she been kidnapped? Who has taken her?” Aaron fretted, suddenly regretting every harsh word he had ever spoken to the tiny, hateful shrew. As much as he disliked her, he did not wish ill upon her, not like this, not this way.

“That depends on who you ask,” the Lord Marsh interjected. The other twelve lords and ladies responded with frowns or rueful chuckles. 

Baron Rossen put two folded letters down on the table within Aaron’s reach. One was from Lord William. It was dotted with blood droplets and a red fingerprint. The other letter was in an unfamiliar script, and was sealed with black wax and blackbird feather. Sticking out of the second letter was a white lace glove. 

“This letter from Lord William arrived first. You can verify his script?” Lord Marsh asked. 

“Yes. That is Lord William’s own hand,” Aaron confirmed. 

“He says that as they were passing through the edge of Culpeper, they were set upon in the night by unknown forces. The party was split asunder. Some of Guinevere’s entourage ran back into the forests. Some were killed, including two of her rabbits, bless their souls. Lord Rothmore perished, and Lord William took a blade to the gut. When he awoke on the forest floor hours later, those left around him were dead. Everyone else had vanished. The Lady Guinevere was gone.”

“Dragged into the night by forces unknown?” Aaron asked. “Then we need to muster our armies, and march to Culpeper, and lay to sword and fire all who stand in our way until she is found,” Aaron insisted. 

“Aaron, wait,” the baron cautioned, patting his arm. “While I find your desire to rise to the Lady Guinevere’s defense most admirable, especially after the manner in which she treated you, there is more that you must know.” 

“This letter arrived as well. Do you know the hand?” Lord Marsh asked. 

“No, sir. I do not. It is unfamiliar,” Aaron said. 

“This letter claims to be from the band of highwaymen who have taken the Lady Guinevere hostage. They are demanding a very steep ransom for her safe return – ten thousand gold pieces and three cows. We have one week to respond,” the baron said. “Does this glove belong to Guinevere?”

“Yes. It is the pair she was wearing to protect her hands from the sunlight. The letter is from the Blackbirds?” Aaron asked, touching the feather. 

“So the author claims,” the baron murmured skeptically.

“The men who returned the Lady Guinevere’s carriages to you were from this clan of highwaymen,” Aaron said. 

“Do you think this group is capable of kidnapping Guinevere and holding her for ransom?” the baron wanted to know. 

“They are capable, but I wouldn’t think they would be inclined,” Aaron protested. 

“Why not?” Lord Marsh asked. 

“None of them liked the Lady Guinevere, not in the least. She was rude and condescending to them.”

“They are highwaymen,” one of the ladies spoke up. 

“Yes, but it was more than that. The Lady Guinevere went out of her way to treat every one of them with disdain, even when they were being kind to her. We were in their company for many days. They led us first to Piney Woods, then to Gatestone Pass, and then they accompanied us to Applewood Farm where we met up with Lord William and Lord Rothmore. I paid them handsomely for their services,” Aaron reported. 

“Perhaps your generosity whetted their appetite for more?” one of the lords suggested. 

“I think not. There wasn’t enough money in the world to make them want to spend more time with the Lady Guinevere. I offered to pay more if they would accompany Lord Rothmore and Lord William to Shenandoah. They refused, not only because it was far out of their own familiar forests, but because they didn’t want to spend any more time around the Lady Guinevere. They had suffered enough abuse from her. This is most curious and ill-fitting,” Aaron said, his sense of unease rising. “Like this glove. Too tight on the wrong hand.”

“Explain,” the baron requested. 

“For one, Lord William says forces unknown attacked their party. If he had seen the Blackbirds, he would have recognized them. We had dinner together, spent the night telling tall tales around the fire. Lord William would have recognized not only their leader, but any of her four lieutenants,” Aaron defended. 

“That’s a good point,” the baron agreed, as did many of the members of the war council.

“Yet in that letter, their leader claims responsibility,” another lord interjected.

“Doesn’t that strike you as odd too? They are highwaymen. I don’t even know if one among them could read and write, let alone manage to compose a letter like this,” Aaron said. “Examine the script, my friends. This handwriting is beautiful. Impeccable. Practiced. It was not shot off in the dark of night while riding on horseback, with a kicking, screaming hostage tied up behind you.” 

“You believe it’s a ruse too?” the baron asked, his face showing his approval. “Then we are agreed. I find the second letter too convenient. Someone is attempting to deceive us.”

“You do not believe the Lady Guinevere has been  
kidnapped?” Lord Marsh wondered.   
“I do not know what to believe at this point,” the baron answered truthfully.

“Lord William would have recognized the Blackbirds if they had been responsible for attacking the party and taking the Lady Guinevere,” Aaron repeated. 

“Perhaps they wore disguises?” Lord Marsh offered.

“I don’t believe kidnapping and ransoming would be their preferred mode of operation.”

“Why not?” another lord asked the shire reeve.

“They seemed to be more about quick and fast operations, in and out, take your money and run. Put your hands in the air, give us your valuables, no one gets hurt, and you’ll be on your way in a jiffy. I just…..kidnapping?” Aaron shrugged both shoulders and made a face. “It’s time-consuming, and it’s risky.”

“There’s money to be had, no denying it,” the baron said. 

“But there’s always the chance that whoever you plan to extort might not have the money, or they might refuse to comply. Then what? I doubt Mother Flora would have been willing to risk being stuck with the likes of Lady Guinevere,” Aaron said. 

“Who do you believe is responsible for Guinevere’s disappearance?” the baron asked. 

“Why look further than the obvious? Lord William said they were attacked near Culpeper. We all know that Baron Culpeper sends his own soldiers as green men to patrol the roads, in order to pick off the richest travelers. I cannot imagine they would be able to pass up a prize as fat and tempting as the Lady Guinevere and her entourage,” Aaron suggested.

“As much as I dislike Baron Culpeper, we cannot malign his name without further proof of his involvement,” another lord cautioned. 

“We must send the shire reeve to investigate before the trail grows cold.”

Everyone turned their attention towards Lady Pembroke. She had given four sons to the baron’s armies over the years, and was raising another two towards the same purpose. The baron treated her with deference, and not just because of her bellicose personality, but because she was talented with a blade in her own right. There were other reasons too. 

“What are your thoughts, my lady? As cousin by blood to Culpeper?” the baron asked carefully. 

“My dear sir, I haven’t seen Baron Culpeper in the flesh since we were children, but I promise you, he made a lasting impression on me even then.”

“How so? Is he the sort who would kidnap and ransom a lady?” Aaron wondered.

“We were twelve and ten, I the younger. We were alone for less than twenty minutes. His parents wanted to see if I might be good wife material for their son, so they sent us to their horse barn so he might show me the new colts.” 

“And?” 

“Should you ever have the misfortune to see Baron Culpeper in his native pinks, you will no doubt see the reminder I left him that day. Here. Along his pale belly. There is a blade scar that runs up his side. He was aiming to steal my virtue. I was aiming to steal his liver. Neither of us achieved our goal,” the Lady Pembroke smiled wolfishly. 

“Culpeper would have no qualms about harming a lady?” Aaron decided grimly.

“Qualms, sir? No. Baron Culpeper has none such impediments,” Pembroke assured him. “And yet, as much as I dislike the man, this vexes me, this whole entire machination.” 

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked. 

“Lord Aaron, you left the Lady Guinevere at Applewood Farm, in the company of all your knights-a-foot, Lord William and his knights, and Lord Rothmore and his knights, did you not?” 

“Yes, my lady, I did.” 

“As wily and creative as these highwaymen might be, can you honestly imagine that your Blackbirds would stand a chance against nigh on one hundred knights on horseback, armed to the teeth?”

“No, my lady. The Blackbirds numbered around fifty, with an auxiliary of children and elderly camped at a safe distance in their familiar forest. Even if every man, woman, and child who could hold a blade joined in the night attack, I would not give them much of a chance against trained warriors on horseback with swords and bows,” Aaron said. 

“We’re agreed then that your green men are likely not responsible. That leaves us with Baron Culpeper. Could Culpeper have mustered that many men to creep up on one hundred knights by darkness?” the Lady Pembroke wondered. 

“If such a pitch battle had taken place, would there not be dead and wounded on both sides?” Lord Marsh asked. 

“I do not follow you,” the baron murmured. 

“I do follow, my lord,” the Lady Pembroke spoke up again. “When Lord William woke, gravely injured, he saw none but his own men around him. Surely one or two of the villains paid with their lives or limbs. Did they take their dead and injured away? Applewood Farm is a week’s ride from Culpeper, is it not?”

“Yes, my lady,” the baron answered. 

“We know for a fact that Culpeper patrols the forest roads night and day in search of plunder, and yet, it vexes me.” 

“What’s that?” 

“He might be able to muster than many men. Let’s say that he can. His advanced scouts would have spotted the party long before they entered his territory. Why would he wait to attack them on his own doorstep? Attacking them in his own barony only serves to make him the obvious villain,” the Lady Pembroke murmured. 

“What are you driving at, my lady?” the baron asked. 

“It is simple, gentle lords. Neither the Blackbirds nor Baron Culpeper are responsible for this. I would wager that the Lady Guinevere is the master of this ruse. She has taken herself,” Pembroke announced. Cries of alarm rose up from the council. “Listen to me!” the Lady Pembroke argued back. 

“I know you never liked her, but to accuse of her extorting the baron for money for her own safe return? That is villainy beyond measure,” Lord Marsh retorted. “We cannot abandon her in her hour of need. We certainly cannot accuse her of plotting her own kidnapping without evidence.” 

Lord Aaron and Baron Rossen exchanged glances. The baron sat back down in his chair and rubbed his heart. Aaron wasn’t sure whether it was an emotional pain or actual physical chest pains. The war counselors continued to argue back and forth across the table until Lord David picked up his gavel and pounded it loudly against the small circle of wood under the ceremonial weapon. Silence slowly descended on the room once more. 

“Lords and ladies, take your seats,” the baron pleaded. 

“Madness,” another lord cried out. 

“Take you seats,” the baron repeated. “We have several possibilities here, but we will not know more until we go back into the forest itself. We can take Lord William’s version, and chalk this up to forces unknown. Villains in disguise. He would have recognized the Blackbirds, but I believe he would also have recognized Lord Culpeper’s forces as well.”

“Why would anyone want to put the blame on this band of highwaymen?” Lord Marsh spoke up. 

“Is that important?” another lord called out. 

“There is no shortage of such bands of ruffians in the forests to choose from? Why select this particular band of villains?” 

“The point is, someone has taken the Lady Guinevere, and we need to find out who, fast,” Baron Rossen interjected between the arguing lords. “Either the Blackbirds are guilty, or they are not. Either Culpeper is guilty, or he is not. I concede it is also possible that the Lady Guinevere has contrived this entire ruse, seeking to punish me for sending her away. She may wish to test if I love her enough to pay the ransom for her safe return. I do love the child, I love her indeed, but if we rush to her rescue, if we attack Baron Culpeper, believing he is guilty, or if we rush into the forest and chase these bandits, there will be consequences.” 

“We need more information before we can decide how to proceed,” Lord Marsh said. “We cannot mass our armies and march on Culpeper without proof positive that he is responsible. Not without risking full out war, which would be madness with the possible potential of an unknown threat from other sides.”

“Agreed,” most of the council called out. 

“We should send the Shire Reeve to investigate this.” 

“The presentation ceremony is days away. I want Aaron here for that,” the baron stressed. 

“I will send word into the forest that I have need to speak with Mother Flora,” Aaron said. “I will ask her to rendezvous at a designated location known only to herself and myself. I will ask her if she and her band are holding the Lady Guinevere hostage.”

“She’s a thief and a villain. Can you trust her to tell you the truth?” Lord Marsh asked. 

“I believe she will tell me the truth, yes.”

“Why is that?” 

“The same reason why I believe they were singled out with this obviously-fabricated letter,” Aaron smiled. “Upon learning that I was born at Castle Hotchner, there was much talk among the highwaymen that I might be a distant relative to their clan. It seems their predecessors also hailed from Castle Hotchner.” 

“Truly?” the baron laughed out. 

“My square head and love of drink were much debated,” Aaron nodded. 

“Your head is not that square,” Lord David soothed. 

“You believe they have been singled out because of this possible connection to you?” Lord Marsh asked. “That is tenuous at best.” 

“But that is precisely what I think,” Aaron nodded. “Point is, Mother Flora and I have a certain understanding, and I believe we can discuss this matter frankly. 

“How can you be so sure?” the Lady Pembroke asked. 

“I’ll take three cows as a down payment,” Aaron decided.


	34. Good Odds

34 -- Good Odds 

 

“That’s bloody gorgeous. Right artful, that is,” Mother Flora murmured, tenderly fingering the unfolded piece of parchment that Lord Aaron had handed her. The shire reeve smiled faintly at her in reply. “You do know I can’t read or write, I take it?” she added. 

“Yes, ma’am. I thought as much. If you could decipher the contents of that letter you’re holding, you would be madder than a wet hen right now. Do any of your band practice the habit?” 

“Kevin can cipher letters and numbers, but his hand is nowhere near as beautiful as that. Here’s your feather back,” the highwayman said, reaching into her pouch and stretching over to Aaron’s horse. 

“Thank you,” Aaron answered, tucking the blackbird feather into one of the rondelles of his cloak clasp, feeling the edge tickle his chin when he turned sideways to follow Flora’s line of sight. He tucked the letter away as well. 

“Is that your rabbit, my lord?” she asked, her voice rising. 

“Aye, he is,” Aaron smiled. 

“He’s right pretty, even from a distance. He has a lean and trim look to him.”

Mother Flora continued to stare, and Aaron started to get nervous.

“I feel I may have seen him before. He reminds me of someone,” the highwayman whispered. 

“Who?” Aaron paled. 

“I do not know. An old lover, perhaps? Don’t know if I’d parade him around a lot if I were you. If he were mine, I’d tuck him up in my bed, let him keep the pillows and sheets warm until I returned.” 

“Not a bad idea,” Aaron agreed. He raised a hand and waved at Rabbit when the young man gazed up at him. Rabbit was attempting to keep the three cows in tow, hanging onto their leashes loosely. Their bells dinged quietly as they moved up and down the path with him near the three-mile marker. The heifers lowed, and investigated the banks of wild flowers and ivies. Rabbit followed the cows down the slight hill. The shire reeve thought about motioning him over, to see if perhaps Mother Flora did know him, but decided against it. After so long not knowing, he found he was somewhat afraid that she might recognize him after all. 

“My lord, are you going to tell me what this is about? I know there’s a score or two of knights in the field below the forest. Why are you keeping company with cows? Thinking of becoming a drover?” Flora asked, shaking Aaron out of his thoughts about Rabbit and his origins. 

“How has your week been, ma’am? Profitable?” 

“Not as such. We tapped a couple of holy men on the heads for their wagon full of beer kegs, only to nick the worst-tasting ale you ever let slide past your lips. I was pissing green for two days. A truly rank brew it was, my lord.” 

“Sorry,” Aaron chuckled. 

“We have sworn off holy men and ale for a couple weeks as penance,” Flora promised.

“Nothing else curious going on in your forest?” Aaron inquired innocently. 

“Now that you mention it,” Flora hedged, eyes glittering with worry. “Is that what you’re here about?” 

“Might be.”

“I best give you the right answer, hadn’t I, or those knights will come charging through my forest, ain’t that so?” Flora asked. 

“Not on my command, they won’t,” Aaron assured her. 

“Curious happenings in the forest, eh? There was a queer hum the other morning.” 

“A queer hum?” 

“You didn’t hear it, so much as feel it.” 

“Go on,” Aaron urged. 

“The birds, they didn’t like it. Nor the beasts neither. The horses were right skittish. We woke to a silent dawn. The trees were still. No wind at first. Then a strange draft fell on us from above.”

“Strange how?” 

“It smelled like pickled beets.” 

“What?” Aaron questioned. 

“Pickled beets. It was horrible. Once the sun was up though, the draft disappeared, and the birds and beasts slowly returned.”

“Tell me about the hum.”

“It was low, like a vibration in the ground and the air. You heard it and you felt it. I can’t explain it. That odd draft gave me the chills, and the smell of picked beets made me puke-ish,” she shuddered. 

“Have you seen anyone strange in the forest?” 

“Strange?” 

“More to the point, have you seen anyone familiar?” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific, my lord,” Flora grumbled. “Do not talk in riddles to me. Tell me frank what you need to know.”

“It is very important that we not misunderstand each other. Would you be able to account for the whereabouts of your band this week?” 

“I see. This is a formal inquiry, Master Reeve,” Flora nodded. “I can give you one of those empty kegs, and direct you to these holy men that we tapped, as long as you promise not to lead them back to us. For two days after that, me and mine stayed close to home, because the brew had made us so ill. By Thursday, we were out and about again, but it was slim pickings. I sent Stinky Bob and Mace to Warrenton to buy some provisions to tide us over. That morning was the morning of the creepy hum.”

“It would be most helpful to have one of those kegs. What were you and yours doing while Stinky Bob and Mace were in Warrenton? That’s a wee bit north for you, isn’t it?”

“I see I may as well confess.”

“To what?” Aaron went still. 

“The Blackbirds have given safe haven, and our promise of silence, to someone we found wandering injured in our forest.”

“You have given safe haven to someone?” Aaron brightened. “Can you name this injured party?”

“For you I would, you know I would, but I gave my word, sir, that I would tell no one where she was, friend or foe. She is a-feared for her life, and not sure who to trust.” 

“She must have been pretty scared indeed to come to you?” 

“The minute I saw her, my instincts said to carry her back to you, and drop her on your doorstep like a bastard babe in a basket. However, she pleaded she wouldn’t be safe, not at home and not abroad, and she begged me to let her stay. I gave my word, I did. So here she stays, until she’s bored with Kevin’s company, I reckon as much. Why would you travel six hours in the company of twenty-four knights and three cows and your rabbit? This isn’t about strange hums or the like. This is a lot more dire than you are letting on.”

“I brought Rabbit because he’s good company. The cows were a test. The knights are here out of duty. My lord baron said it would be a fool’s errand to come here without an armed escort, all things considered.”

“He feared I would attack you?” 

“No, ma’am. Not you. He feared that Baron Culpeper might have left a few knights-a-foot lurking about, hoping to cause trouble.”

“Culpeper? He’s better than seven days to the west, and though his men do ride this forest road like they own it, they have not been about lately, my lord. I suspect they are otherwise occupied.”

“But you would recognize his banner if you saw it?” 

“Aye, but not all of his men wear his banner at all times. Nor are they above wearing another’s banner in hopes of confusing the unwary. You learn to recognize a soldier by their armor, not by their banner. Oh, he has a lovely breast plate. What beautiful metalwork. My, what a sharp pair of gauntlets that is. I’m not stupid, you know. Men who are kitted up at the same armory, they tend to wear similar armor, no matter whose colors they fly. Do you see what I mean?” 

“I get your drift. Theses knights from Culpeper. They don’t have enough sense to dress as highwaymen when they act like highwaymen. They wear their knightly goods, plain as day, regardless of the role they are playing?” 

“Aye, my lord. They’re witless as brained chickens, skulking about in plain sight the way they do. We can spot ‘em at a distance if they wander this far east. We tend to steer clear of them when we get their scent on the wind.”

“What do they smell like?” 

“Avarice,” Flora smiled. “Perhaps you should tell me why you’re really here, my lord? Out with it. All the horrid truth.”

“Mother Flora, we have been led to believe that you and your men have taken the Lady Guinevere hostage, and that you mean to ransom her for ten thousand pieces of gold.” 

“And three cows?” Flora chuckled softly, seriously. 

“Aye.” 

“Is that what that letter says?” Flora asked. 

“Yes. Because you didn’t lose your temper when I gave you the letter, that tells me you couldn’t read what it said. Since you couldn’t read it, it’s good odds you didn’t write the damned thing either.”

“Lord Aaron, think what you like of me, but I would not make my day’s wages on the back of a woman in peril. I would not ransom a woman, not even one I thoroughly disliked.”

“I know, ma’am. I don’t suspect you at all.” 

“Three cows? That doesn’t seem queer to you?”

“It does seem random,” Aaron agreed. 

“You’ve got to put your mind to this conundrum.”

“We put the minds of our entire war council to this conundrum, and still we are puzzled. The baron presented both letters to his war council and asked their advice.”

“That’s a problem right there, trying to get that many people agree about anything!”

“That’s true,” Aaron laughed. 

“If I were the sort lowlife who would ransom a rich woman, I would never have gone as high as ten thousand in gold,” Mother Flora stated firmly. 

“Why not?” 

“That much gold would be heavy, hard to transport, and difficult to hide. And another thing, this is a forest.”

“Yes? What’s your point?” 

“Where in nine hells am I going to spend money like that in the forest?” Mother Flora asked with a short laugh. 

“Your band enjoys a good tavern now and then.”

“My band does, not me. I’m a wanted woman out in the world, so I keep to my forest much of the time. My band might scrape pennies together to buy a keg now and then, but, my lord, think on it. The moment one of my lads pays with too much actual currency, they would be reported to whatever barony minted the money.”

“You might save it up for a rainy day. Buy yourself a husband and a name. Forget your past, and become a proper lady.” 

“Is that what your mother did?” Flora attempted to jest, but she understood right away that it was the wrong tact to take, because all the humor and the color drained out of Aaron’s face.

“No. She did not,” Aaron said sadly. Flora patted his arm in apology. 

“I’m sorry. You see her in me, don’t you? You get this mournful glow at times. Something about me reminds you of her.”

“Yes,” Aaron admitted. 

“It does not make you glad to see her face in mine?” 

“It does not,” Aaron murmured. 

“I am sorry for that. A boy should always love his mother, and she, him. Even if he’s not going to be much of a highwayman,” Flora sighed sadly. 

“Mace? He’ll make a fine highwayman,” Aaron promised. “You made a good bit of money off of our party. I had hoped you might not have to roam the roads for a few weeks. Are you not spending the gold you earned for escorting us?” Aaron pressed. 

“Indeed, sir. We are breaking the gold coins into halves and fourths, and we’re dirtying it up a bit before we spend them. Making it rough and tumble, like the lot of us,” Flora chuckled. “It doesn’t do for highwaymen to be seen with proper money. People get suspicious. That ransom price is too steep for my blood, my lord. I would not ask for so much, if I were to take up the habit of ransoming people, which I would be loathe to do.” 

“I understand.”

“To be honest, and not meaning any offense to you, but there’s not enough money in the world what would make me suffer that little bitch’s company. 

“I reasoned as much to my baron, that you would not be eager or willing to remain in the lady’s company, no matter the price. So on your word, ma’am, you do swear that you have not seen the Lady Guinevere tromping around in your forest, free as a lark, nor being hauled about by villains, cinched up like a holiday goose?” 

“On my word, my lord. I have not seen your lady. The last time I clapped eyes on the Lady Jenny, was at Applewood Farm. She was headed west, towards Shenandoah, looking angry and vengeful,” Flora answered crisply. “Three cows? It's right queer," she said, scrunching up her face. 

“I know. I know,” Aaron echoed, raising his hands in confusion. “That’s bothering me too. Why would anyone ask for three cows as part of a ransom payment?”

“Perhaps it is meant to puzzle you and throw you off the trail.”

“They have succeeded in confusing me, I confess,” Aaron laughed.

“I would have asked for horses, not cows. You can’t ride a cow. Well, I mean, you can ride a cow, if you’re desperate. But it doesn’t put forth the same heart-stirring, blood-freezing sense of danger, if you know what I mean? You can’t instill fear in your victim riding on a cow.”

“Quite right. They’re slow. Ungainly. Not a proper steed for someone who needs disappear quickly,” Aaron agreed.

“I might use a cow for subterfuge, devilry, and the like. Lure a traveler into a false sense of security with a cow and a boy dressed as a drover, something like that. We’re not much about subterfuge ourselves. Don’t mind a bit of devilry, all in good fun. But frankly, as you said, cows would be slow and cumbersome to manage, and expensive to keep.” 

“Yes,” Aaron nodded. “This whole matter is too curious.” 

“Maybe whatever was humming in my forest is what took your Lady Jenny,” Flora suggested.

“What?” Aaron stammered. 

“You’ll think me mad,” Flora shied away.

“I will not,” he promised. 

“It happens now and then.”

“What does?”

“Some of my band. They’ll go missing, and they are never seen again.”

“Have you heard this humming in your forest before?” 

“There’s been tales over the years. I won’t lie to you. Before now, I’ve dismissed those tales as the consequence of mighty strong drink,” Flora murmured. 

“But now that you’ve heard the hum yourself?” 

“I’ll be keeping Mace down out of the tree tops,” she promised. 

“That would seem to be a good idea. Miss Flora, don’t be too hard on the lad if he doesn’t measure up to your ideals for a highwayman.”

“I won’t be hard on him. I love him too much.”

“You have to let Mace find his own path. Maybe he’s not mean to be a brigand.” 

“Aye, but it’s terrible hard, it is,” Flora sighed. “I had high hopes for him, but that’s come to naught. Poor lad. What’ll he do with himself if he can’t be a highwayman?” 

“Mace will find his way.”

“He surely will."

"I confess, he reminds me of me at that age.”

“Does he?” Flora balked. 

“Yes.”

“You turned out all right, didn’t you?” 

“Not without help, ma’am, which if it pleases you, I would be most willing to offer, should you not find that intrusive of me, nor condescending. I do not mean to say that you aren’t capable of being a good mother. You’re a damned fine mother. But, there you are, I shall say it. If you would ever wish for the lad to get a look at the other side of the greenery, you send him to me in Quantico,” Aaron finished stammering and met Mother Flora’s eyes again. “We could see if he takes to civilization and society?”

Mother Flora was quiet for a long pause. 

“We might,” she said between tight, pursed lips. “Thank you for the offer. I will consider it. The sun is moving on, my lord, and you need to be heading back to your baron.” 

“I do,” Aaron agreed. “My baron will be relieved that you are not the guilty party, and that you have not seen the Lady Guinevere. Thank you for keeping the Lady Penelope safe.” 

“How did you guess!?” Flora gasped. “You’ve gone and made me break an oath. I swore I would not tell you she was here.” 

“You didn’t tell me. You did not break your oath. I guessed,” Aaron replied, eyes twinkling. 

“How did you guess?” 

“You mentioned Kevin, and that was all I needed to know. Your lieutenant was making moon-calf eyes at her for days and days. I’d be stupid not to have guessed. Let the Lady Penelope stay as long as she wants. But let her know, by and by, that she would be safe in Quantico. No harm nor retribution will come to her. I need to hear her tale for myself, no matter how hard it might be for her to tell me it.”

“My lord, she’s terrible upset about what happened. I wouldn’t dare press her.”

“How was she wounded? Sword, arrow, or blade?”

“She took a blade through the ribs. Missed her gizzard by an inch, it did.” 

“It was a personal attack?” 

“As personal as it could have been, my lord. I do think so.”

“Lord William was attacked in like kind—a thin blade through the ribs, not a sword.”

“By the same hand?” Flora wondered. 

“I do not know. I cannot say. But I would not be surprised. Lord William will recover, but he is out of commission for now, at home in Shenandoah, where Baron Munro chomps at the bit to avenge this insult. Lord William is Munro’s right hand man.” 

“It wasn’t the hum that took Lady Jenny, was it?” 

“No,” Aaron agreed, smiling again. 

“The hum wouldn’t send a letter, telling you I did it. Besides that, the hum was in the north of my forest, nowhere near where the Lady Jenny disappeared. You kept mentioning Baron Culpeper and his men, so that tells me she disappeared along the south?” 

“Yes,” Aaron said. 

“Whoever took the Lady Jenny, they hoped you might suspect me, but they really wanted you to suspect Culpeper, don’t they?”

“They do.” 

“Your baron is angry. Baron Munro is angry. There’s men-at-arms clear across the Virgin Land who would love nothing better than to saddle up and march against Culpeper. He’s a right prick, so he’d deserve everything your lot would do to him, but if he didn’t do this, it don’t feel right to accuse him of it, and even less right to punish him for something he did not do.”

“I agree. Whoever it is who took the Lady Guinevere and blamed you and Baron Culpeper, they want to start a war, and they may well get their wish if I can’t find proof that leads me to the Lady Guinevere’s whereabouts.” 

“Could the Lady Jenny have kidnapped herself?” 

“We have considered that possibility.”

“Ten thousand pieces of gold. Think on that, my lord. A lady could buy herself a new life with that kind of money. You said it yourself. A new life. A new name. She could buy respectability. She wouldn’t need to be beholden to Baron Rossen or to Baron Munro either one. She would be her own woman.”

“We have no proof of this, and I cannot act without proof, either against Baron Culpeper or the Lady Guinevere,” Aaron said. 

“My lord, whoever stabbed the Lady Penelope lost a glove.” 

“What?” Aaron gasped. 

Flora dug in her jacket, and handed Aaron a white, lace glove spotted with blood. He recognized it at once as the mate to the one which had been stuffed into the ransom letter. He had purposefully left that glove with Baron Rossen. 

“What is this?” he asked. 

“The Lady Penelope did not see a face, but she knows who it was, I’m afraid. More’s the pity for her. Her heart is broken, so it is. Someone crept up on her in her sleep. When she was stabbed, she jumped awake and screamed out. She grabbed at her attacker. The attacker fled.”

“How did she come by this glove?” 

“She did not realize it at the time, in all the panic and chaos, but when she struggled with her attacker, she came away with this glove in her hand. She was half-unconscious from the pain of her wound. She could hear screaming and fighting outside in the forest. She played dead on the floor of her tent. A knight or two came in. They saw her covered in blood and lying on the ground, and decided she was already dead.”

“Knights? Not highwaymen? Not masked men? Knights? She was sure?” 

“Knights, my lord. Lady Penny was specific. She talked of how their metal armor rattled when they rushed about. They took her chest of jewels and her purse of coins. Laughed about her lying there like a great, gutted heifer. When the fighting stopped, she waited for time to pass. She realized this glove was in her grip, and she realized who her attacker must have been. It broke her heart, my lord. It truly did. She gave me this glove, and pleaded with me to burn it. She never wanted to see this glove again. There was such sorrow in her eyes, my lord, even I felt pity for her.” 

“May I have this?” Aaron whispered.

“It’s all yours, my lord. I do not envy you and what you must tell your baron. That’s a heavy burden to carry, for you and for him.”

“He will not be happy,” Aaron admitted. 

“But he will have his proof,” Flora reminded him grimly. 

“That he will. Thank you for your help, Mother Flora. Would you…. Would you like some milk before we go?” 

Flora’s soft laughter rang out. 

“You are not at all interested in these cows, are you?” Aaron asked. 

“No. The keeping and feeding of them would bankrupt my little band.”

“Do you want one of them?” 

“I confess, my lord. I am not the best judge of cows, and would not know which one to select. Take them back to their friends, all three of them.”

“As you wish. I am in your debt, again,” Aaron called out, waving to Flora as she turned her horse around, and headed away quietly into the forest. 

“That you are, cousin,” she echoed finally as she disappeared beyond the next hill.


	35. Rabbit Runs

35 -- Rabbit Runs

 

A good shire reeve must be able to survive on his well-honed instincts. He must be able to read a person, understand their point of view, and judge their motives without judging them and all their human weaknesses. In a way, the longer Aaron pondered the possibility that the Lady Guinevere might be doing what she was doing in order to gauge the baron’s love for her, and equally, to punish him for sending her away, the longer he could see the logic in her decided course of action. In his heart, he felt pity for the Lady Guinevere, as much as he felt pity for the Lady Penelope. It must have hurt to no end, knowing that the mistress to whom she had been so faithful and so supportive had had no qualms about sacrificing her, most of her entourage, and two of her own rabbits to boot. 

Aaron kept that blood-dotted lace glove tucked in his pocket, and said nothing to his fellow knights as they trudged along the road leading back to Quantico. He watched Rabbit watching the cows. The young man had been happy to bring them home again. Aaron held the reins of Rabbit’s horse, and Rabbit held the cords to which the three cows were tethered. He spent more time riding sideways and watching the cows than he spent doing anything else. 

It was well into the evening when they arrived back at Castle Rossengild. Aaron’s mood worsened as the afternoon went on. When they were clopping up the hill towards the portcullis, Aaron heaved up a sigh, and steeled himself for what he must do. Rabbit said goodbye to the cows at the stable, giving them each a pat on the shoulder and a kiss on the nose. The milkmaids were quite enamored of his gentleness with their beasts. Aaron said goodbye to his knights at the watch tower. They grumbled about their sore butts, but he lightened their moods by giving each a bonus for a day’s work done well. Their sore butts weren’t much of an issue as they sauntered down into the village to their favorite local taverns.

Aaron put a hand around Rabbit’s waist and guided him towards the castle entrance. It was clear from the angle and awkwardness of his gait that Rabbit had a sore backside as well. Aaron had an indecent thought or two about how he might alleviate that soreness, but he kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Master Reed,” he murmured quietly to Rabbit as Baron Rossen appeared in the castle entrance. “You let me do the talking.” 

Rabbit nodded in reply, watching Aaron dig in his pocket. Aaron handed Baron Rossen the bloodied glove, and the baron waited, speechless, for more explanation. 

“Miss Flora can account for her band’s actions this week. The Blackbirds are not holding the Lady Guinevere. They are giving safe haven to the Lady Penelope, who was injured in the attack,” the shire reeve ventured delicately into what he needed to say. 

“Why did the Lady Penelope not return with you?” 

“She is hiding in the forest. She is afraid for her life, both at home and abroad.”

“Why should she be afraid for her life? We would not harm her here.” 

“The Lady Penelope fought with her attacker. She took a blade to the ribs, and nearly died. This glove belonged to her attacker.”

“You know as well as I that this is Guinevere’s glove, the mate to the one which arrived with the second letter.”

“It is, my lord baron.” 

“So it is as we feared? The Lady Guinevere has done this to herself. She wants to first blame the Blackbirds because of their connection to you. Secondly, she casts a more convincing blame towards Baron Culpeper, in hopes of what, I do not know, but war would have been the result, no doubt, if we had charged blindly ahead. You know what you must do,” the baron said, all humor, all warmth, all happiness draining from him. “I will gather the war council and relay these developments.”

“We cannot march against Baron Culpeper, because he is not to blame.” 

“No. We will not march against Culpeper, that much is fact. After the presentation ceremony, you must go back to the Blackbirds, and you must bring the Lady Penelope home. She must give testimony in front of witnesses about what she saw that night.”

“I can tell them what she told Mother Flora.”

“That will not serve to satisfy the lords of the court. It must come from the Lady Penelope’s own mouth to be acceptable in the eyes of the law.”

“Certainly, my lord baron.”

“You do have proof that the Blackbirds are not the responsible party?” 

“It’s complicated, but it involves holy men, and very bad ale, and most of them being sick for days after imbibing the bad brew.” 

“How sick?” 

“They were all pissing green.”

“That sounds like Brother Killigan,” the baron laughed grimly. 

“You know this madman?”

“I have known him for many years. He uses the water from a holy well near Luray to brew his ale. And yes, his beer is hideous. By and by, while you were out, a missive and a package arrived for you from the Lady Julia.”

“Ah,” Aaron murmured. Rabbit froze on the spot, and frowned hatefully at the floor.

“Dinner first. War Council second. Plans for the presentation ceremony third. Master Tailor would like to see you both for a fitting first thing in the morning.”

“Oh! I had utterly forgotten about…”

“You need to be properly kitted out for the ceremony.”

“Yes, sir,” Aaron agreed. 

“Do you feel that?” the baron murmured, his brow furrowing.

“Feel what?” Aaron answered. He gazed around, left, right, and center. The baron gazed around as well. 

“I thought I felt the ground shiver, only for a second,” the baron replied. “Must have been my imagination,” he sighed. “Come inside. You must be tired, but first things first.”

“Yes, my lord,” Aaron answered with a humble, tired nod. Rabbit followed behind, but not without a backwards glance towards the sky.

* * *

As tired as he was, Aaron was having trouble falling asleep once he was back in his apartments that night. Eleven bells had rung in the chapel tower. By the light of the candle resting on the desk, he opened the Lady Julia’s letter. The long and short of it – owing to Rabbit’s willful disobedience, she was requesting that Aaron become a more active participant in the process. Towards that goal, she had sent him some helpful instructions on how to retrain his rabbit.

_One. It can take as little as five weeks to properly train your rabbit, from the moment you take him home, to the point where they will obey your every command without hesitation. It may however take slightly longer with more willful specimens. The most important thing to remember is to be firm but gentle at all times. Make it clear to your rabbit that you are in charge, and you will have an easy time with training._

“Well, that is part of the problem right there,” Aaron commented dryly. “I’m weeks behind, and you are the most willful of specimens, no doubt about that.”

The shire reeve folded the letter down, and gave Rabbit a sideways glance. The young man was sound asleep in his own bed, hair down in his eyes. Aaron rose up out of his chair, and walked over to Rabbit’s bed, reaching down to stroke his locks out of his face. 

_Two. Begin by selecting a training collar and/or leash. You will find this makes your rabbit easier to control. This is particularly true if you mean to breed your rabbit. Over time, he will come to associate putting on his collar with the expectation of being milked for implantation, or being put into a breeding pen with a female. Collars and/or leashes may be worn in public, or in private, or both. If you choose to employ a collar, it is imperative that your rabbit spends the first week in your company in only his collar. (i.e. without clothes)_

“Bloody hell,” Aaron whispered, shuddering. He remembered the golden leash that Captain Todd had given him, the day that Rabbit had climbed the mast of his ship. Maybe Aaron had led a sheltered life, but this seemed beyond the pale to him, not the way one should treat another human being. Not that the idea of Rabbit naked in his bed for a week didn’t entice him. But only if that was by choice, Rabbit’s choice, and not by force.

_Three. You will also need to select a rod for your rabbit. As his breeding training continues, you may need to graduate to larger rods to continue to achieve the same levels of obedience. Use your rod as a means of reward, not punishment. As with the collar, your rabbit should wear your rod as much as possible during the first week of confinement._

Aaron glanced towards his desk, towards the wrapped box which rested there. It was long and cylindrical. Shaped rather like the phallic implements which had been on the table where Rabbit had been strapped down. Aaron didn’t have to unwrap the package to guess what it might contain. There was a sickeningly feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He stared at the low fire in the fireplace, meant to ward away the chill of the night. 

_Four. From the very beginning, you must make it clear to your rabbit that you are in command, and that he must obey you at all times, without hesitation. Reinforce good behavior with rewards when he is obedient. Negative reinforcement should be used as a last resort. However, do not spare the crop if necessary. When your rabbit is being headstrong, you must reassert your dominance, or all your careful training will be for naught._

Did the Lady Julia really expect Aaron to beat Rabbit until he behaved? 

_Five. Milking a male rabbit for breeding purposes should be done morning and evening, twice at a sitting if possible. Remember to be firm but gentle. Remind your rabbit that you are in control. It may be necessary to restrain your rabbit if he is not cooperative to your plans. As with the collar and the rod, restraints will help to reinforce your dominance._

Aaron crumbled the letter up, and threw it angrily across the room. It bounced off the headboard of his bed, and flew straight out the open window.

“Gods above,” the shire reeve yelped, suddenly horrified that someone might actually find the letter and read the contents. He raced to the window, sticking his head out. The crumbled letter had plummeted from the tower, bounced on a roof far below, and landed next to a gargoyle spout. Aaron chastised himself, shaking his head as he came back inside. 

Rabbit was sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Apparently he had heard Aaron’s annoyed exclamation. 

“Care for a jaunt outside?” Aaron put on a sickly weak smile. 

Rabbit nodded, rising up from his bed, searching for his boots. Aaron marched over to the desk, picked up the package, and tossed it hard into the fireplace. The flames popped up with bright colored sparks as they devoured the festive bow, the glittering paper, and the wooden box. Aaron turned around from admiring the glow, and saw Rabbit pulling on a cloak over his nightshirt and boots. 

“Love, as much as I adore your interesting wardrobe choices, you might want to put on pants. And underpants.”

Rabbit didn’t like the idea whatsoever, evidenced by his moody frown.

“I mean to boost you up on the roof down there. It’s going to involve climbing. You don’t want your naked bum shining in the moonlight, do you?” Aaron asked.

Rabbit sighed heavily, unhitched his cloak, pulled off his nightshirt, and strode naked to the wardrobe, except for his high boots. Aaron mused to himself that somewhere along the way, he might have to use positive reinforcement to coerce Rabbit into important things, like an appreciation for undergarments. 

Rabbit held up a pair of trousers and a shirt for Aaron’s approval. The shire reeve nodded, and the young man pulled off his boots. He pulled on his clothes without underwear, Aaron noted with a quick snort. Once back into his boots, Rabbit followed Aaron out of the apartments. 

At first Aaron was trying to make as little noise as possible. But then as maids and squires went past them, bowing or curtseying to the shire reeve, he began to realize how very foolish he seemed, skulking about, and so he straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and plodded quickly down the long flight of stairs like he owned the entire damned castle. 

The shire reeve and his rabbit emerged from the castle entrance, and Aaron stared upwards, searching for his own apartment window. The box that he had tossed into the fireplace was making brilliant colors dance all around the room. Rabbit gave him a sideways look as he put his hands on his hips. 

“From here on out, you have my word, there will be no talk of the Lady Julia, or breeding habits, or selected females, or any of the like,” Aaron frowned angrily, stomping in the direction of the appropriate gargoyle. “There he is. That’s him. Ugly bastard from this angle too.” 

Rabbit followed, still listening to Aaron ramble.

“I feel bad enough that my life depends on your willingness to endure me and my need for blood antidote. I will not subject any man, nor woman either, to the suggestions in that letter. The very idea! Here. Can I give you a boost?” 

Aaron knelt down, cupping two hands together. Rabbit put his hands tenderly on Aaron’s shoulders, put a set of toes in his grip, and allowed the shire reeve to boost him up into the air. It took a bit of work, but Rabbit was able to scramble up behind the rain spout. He straddled the gargoyle, and lifted up the Lady Julia’s letter, balled and crumbled, dirty and wet. 

“Toss it down?” Aaron pleaded. What if Rabbit unwrinkled the parchment and read the contents of that letter?! “Love, toss it down.”

Rabbit lifted the balled material, and began to straighten it. The look on his face said everything. He balled it back up, and hurled it down at Aaron. 

“I feel the same way you do,” the shire reeve promised. He retrieved the letter, and held it to the nearest torch. Rabbit was lying on the roof on his stomach, having swung his long legs out from around the gargoyle. He shimmied carefully sideways across the roof tiles, slowly lowering himself into position. 

Aaron hurried back to him, putting himself beneath those long legs. He caught one foot on his left shoulder, steadied himself, and caught the next, then let Rabbit slid down slowly to the ground. Rabbit wobbled, but righted himself. The letter was in ashes by the wall where the torch was hanging. Rabbit studied Aaron accusingly, and the shire reeve raised his hands slightly. 

“As I said, I feel the same way you do about the lady’s suggestions. There’ll be none of that. You have my word. Do you understand?” 

Rabbit nodded. He sidled up to Aaron, and petted him on one forearm. 

“There will be no more discussion about breeding you, unless you want to do so, and that is final. The lords and ladies of the court might get their noses out of joint of it, but that’s just too bloody bad for them,” Aaron growled. 

Rabbit sighed, and patted Aaron’s arm once more.

“Though I must admit, the idea of holding up a bitty bunny of yours, giving it to the baron at a presentation ceremony, that idea appeals to me.”

Rabbit tilted his head to one side, and blinked in surprise at Aaron. 

“But only would I wish this if you too would wish it, a child, that is,” Aaron stammered. “Nice night for a walk?” the shire reeve suggested, glancing up at the apartment window again. The multi-colored fire was dying down, returning to the appropriate yellow and gold and red. “I don’t feel much like sleep, not with all these thoughts lose in my head, like sheep straying in the field.” 

Rabbit fell in step with Aaron, staying by his side as the shire reeve walked along the road that led around the castle, and into the fields beyond. 

“Do you ever second-guess yourself?” Aaron asked after a few minutes of quiet walking. The torches from the castle were beginning to dim in the short distance. They could hear the banners whipping in the slight wind. Aaron had to remember to look at Rabbit to see his head nod yes or shake no. Even if Rabbit were carrying his book and pencil, there wasn’t enough light to read his scribbled words. 

Rabbit was wearing a wry smile, and he was nodding slowly. 

“I’ve said things to you that I regret. I have doubted you when you have spoken the truth to me, and I am sorry for that.”

Rabbit reached out and stroked Aaron’s back. 

“From here on out, things are going to change between us. We are going to be equals. I swear to you, I won’t be treating you like a simple child. You have proven that you are anything but simple.”

This won him a small kiss on the cheek. 

“I just hope, in time, that you’ll forget the kind of jackass I have been to you. It was never my intent to be condescending or arrogant. I….what is it?” 

Aaron stopped speaking, because Rabbit was sliding a hand onto his arm, not patting or stroking, but grasping in fear. Rabbit’s eyes went skyward, and his face went pale. The stars were plentiful away from the torches of the guard tower. And so when Aaron followed Rabbit’s gaze, a shudder went through his body as he understood what Rabbit was seeing in the distance to the west. 

There were a set of dark shapes hovering between them and the stars in the sky. They were the size and shape of the bottom of a sailing ship, an oval with tipped ends, like the way a water-borne vessel will depress the ocean with its mass. 

Rabbit’s grip was getting tighter and tighter. His breathing had halted entirely. 

Whatever the shapes were, they were approaching Aaron and Rabbit. 

Aaron was frozen to the spot, his legs like jelly. There was a hum somewhere in the distance, somewhere over the fields beyond the castle, following in the wake of the small shapes hovering overhead. 

One unholy blue light appeared in the night sky. A single shimmer of evil had opened its eye. Rabbit’s grip slid down to Aaron’s hand, and he began to run. Aaron stumbled awkwardly behind him. The shire reeve’s gaze was fixed behind, and he could not tear his eyes away. More blue lights appeared. There was a low hum around them in the air – it was a hum he would never forget as long as he lived. 

They were raiders from Mary’s Land!

Rabbit tugged furiously on Aaron, attempting to hurry him along. All those years melted away, and in Aaron’s mind’s eye, he was a young lad again, staring about in disbelief as his home castle and village were being destroyed before his eyes. 

Aaron let out a pained bellow into the night around him. Rabbit stopped tugging and pulling, and remained by Aaron’s side as the shire reeve slid to the ground, and howled out again. The dark shapes centered on those two screams of pain. The blue eyes focused on them. Rabbit was worried he had hurt Aaron by pulling on him so hard. He checked him for wounds. 

Along the castle watch towers, seconds after Aaron’s bellowing was heard, an alarm was raised in the night. Fires bloomed in the front towers, and were followed in sequence to the tops of each tower of the castle. The guards on the towers had spotted the dark shapes as well. As the flames rose higher, alarms raised at the castle were echoed from the village of Quantico as well. The rising signal fires highlighted the bottoms of the lowest dark shapes. Raiders’ faces became visible above their boom sticks. 

Aaron shot a glance towards the village and towards the bay and the ocean beyond. Another group of looming shapes hovered there, blocking out the stars. Those shapes too were moving towards the castle, riding over the village as swiftly as the wind that carried them. 

Rabbit put both arms around Aaron’s waist, hauled him to his feet, and struck him hard in the face. Aaron blinked wildly, shook his head, and focused on the young man. Rabbit was dragging Aaron towards the village. Aaron fell in step, hurrying to keep up with Rabbit’s long legs. Their hands parted as their strides quickened, but Rabbit was careful not to outrun Aaron by too much distance. 

The dark shapes coming in from the west were closing in, hurrying on, but the dark shapes coming in from the east, from over the village, were closing the gap as well. Rabbit was aiming for the village. Aaron was sticking close on Rabbit’s path, but he had to wonder why Rabbit was not afraid to head towards the air vessels hovering over the village. 

As they raced around the side and crossed the front of the castle, the first cannon boomed from the top of one of the towers. In quick sequence, a barrage of cannon fire let loose from all directions, from every tower including Aaron’s own. He took a moment to watch several of dark shapes tumble from the sky. The ships were falling, and as they fell, forms were writhing in the air. Rabbit did not stop, not until one of the dark shapes was struck by a cannon directly overhead. The concussion of the blast was close enough to lift his hair. Aaron dragged Rabbit to a halt as a metal _something_ hurtled down, down, down. It skimmed the surface of the road that led to the village. Soldiers in gray spilled ingloriously out in every direction, screaming, dying, in pain, some on fire. The flaming metal shape skipped across the road, and with a horrible, sickening tumble, rolled towards the fields and forests which led to the village. 

Aaron shielded Rabbit as the flames and fragments from the skipping metal object splattered out in every direction. The newly-planted fields were scored with fire and metal. 

Rabbit struggled away from Aaron, towards the crash, towards the flames. Was he completely insane? There was no time to wonder why he would do such a thing. Overhead, more dark shapes buzzed by, coming from both the west and the east. Cannon fire continued from the castle. Aaron didn’t think twice. He followed Rabbit, who was running for all his worth towards the dark shape that had come down in the fields. 

At first Aaron wondered if Rabbit was going to lend aid to those men who had fallen to the ground from the airship. But when one man on the ground rolled around, rising up to snatch at Rabbit’s legs, the young man paused, turned around, and confronted him. There was a hate-filled snarl on Rabbit’s face, a look that terrified Aaron. Rabbit lifted one foot and brought it down without hesitation against the grasping man’s throat. He snapped his neck in one stroke, and carried on towards the fallen vessel. 

Aaron stopped for one second beside the man, confirming the raider was dead. There was no time to wonder where that anger and hatred had welled up from in Rabbit. Aaron had to catch Rabbit. He had to stop Rabbit. All he could think about was protecting Rabbit. 

The young man reached the metal airship, which was upside-down in the field, buried in the dirt, sprinkled with the debris of small plants and rich soil. Rabbit drew his dagger and raced along the side of the upturned vessel. He reached a specific point, and took hold of the ship, clambering upwards. 

Had he found handholds? How could he possibly have known those would be there? Aaron followed Rabbit to the overturned airship, terrified at the sounds zooming overhead. He glanced back at the castle to hear more cannon fire, and to his surprise, small zips of light, small sparks erupting off the dark shapes flying around. 

That didn’t make any sense at all. 

The dark shapes from the west were not being brought down out of the air by cannon fire alone. The dark shapes from the east appeared to be firing their own manner of cannons at the other air vessels. Why would they be firing on each other if they were on the same side? 

Aaron fumbled a hand along the side of the metal shape, finding the grips that Rabbit had somehow known would be there. Aaron hauled himself upwards, watching Rabbit disappear into the upturned belly of the ship through a rectangular opening. Aaron paused, horrified. A pair of hands grasped his legs and yanked him downward. The shire reeve’s face skipped across the metal surface and the rungs as he fell backwards and sideways and downwards with a shout.

A gray-clad man was looming over Aaron, blood dripping from his wounded arm. The raider was not in such bad shape that he didn’t have a blue-eyed boom stick levelled at Aaron’s chest. 

“Lie where thou art, villain, or taste my flame,” the man warned, giving an evil smile which chilled Aaron to his core. The blue-eyed stick sizzled with energy as the man pushed it closer and closer to Aaron’s chest. 

A metal shape clattered noisily down the side of the upturned vessel, throwing up sparks. Aaron pulled himself down into a frightened crouch as the twisted, contorted frame cracked the gray-clad man in the face, breaking his jaw, snapping his neck, fracturing his skull. Seconds later, as the raider took his last gasp, a form clambered back down the rungs. Rabbit bounced to his feet, dislodged the weird metal frame from where it was pinning the raider to the ground, and pulled it upright. He left it hovering in mid-air. He didn’t even look twice at the dead man, nor the blood that spattered the frame he was holding. Neither did Aaron. He could not stop staring at the frame. 

The thing Rabbit had retrieved from inside the upturned vessel was hovering in the air on its own. Aaron blinked in terrified surprise. Rabbit pulled the blue-eyed boom stick up off the ground, and turned to face Aaron. The shire reeve’s face must have revealed his horror. Rabbit lowered the boom stick, and shrank it down into his fist. He pushed it in his pocket, and snatched out for Aaron’s arm. Aaron dodged back, flattening himself against the metal shape behind him. He was shaking his head, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. 

Rabbit reached again, and this time, he managed to take Aaron’s arm. He pushed and shoved Aaron up onto the hovering frame, one leg on each side of the center of the frame, and one hand on each extended stick of metal which spread out to either side. Rabbit climbed up behind Aaron, taking hold of the bars while keeping a grip on Aaron. It was like sharing one horse, but this horse had no head, no legs, scant enough to call a body. Both of their bottoms were stationed on a leather-covered slab that wasn’t much larger than a chair’s seat. 

Rabbit pulled off his cloak, left it by the ship, and moved his feet up onto small bars at the bottom of the frame. He left his dagger from Baron Rossen on the cloak as well. The frame lifted higher into the air. They leapt into motion, and Aaron screamed out, grabbing Rabbit’s hands on the front bars. They were flying! They darted to the left – Aaron’s dominant side – because he had such a tight grip on Rabbit’s slender hand. Rabbit fought for control of the hovering frame, pulling them east, towards the village. He hunched around Aaron, fighting for a forward view, holding him on the moving, metal, headless horse, and covering him protectively as well as random bolts of blue light searched for them. 

Rabbit was aiming the flying frame with practiced skill. He had no doubt piloted one of these before. He skimmed through the village gates, over the heads of people running back and forth to man their emergency stations. Rabbit pulled the frame up higher when people rushed the flying craft. There were shouts of alarm that a raider was stealing the shire reeve. Aaron gave more than half a thought to diving sideways off the frame, especially when Rabbit pulled them higher still, above the rooftops, above the village. 

What was Rabbit looking for, scanning the sky the way he was? Aaron wasn’t frantic, not yet, but he was scared. He clawed at the grip that Rabbit held on him, but to no avail. Rabbit was determined to keep Aaron by his side, determined beyond all other things. It could have been the bond a rabbit feels for protecting his master. It could have been something far worse. Was Rabbit kidnapping Aaron? 

Rabbit caught his breath, whipped the hovering metal thing around in mid-air, and stuffed his feet hard against the bottom. They took off like a comet. Aaron wanted to vomit. He fought with bile and shame. They were going too fast for him to climb off. He had no choice but to hold on tight. To fall from this height would have meant a broken leg, or worse. Not to mention he had an overwhelming fear that Rabbit would only stop and pick him up again. 

Aaron recognized that as they rose above the rooftops, nearly to the height of the masts of the ships in the water, that they were being approached by other dark shapes. Was Rabbit attempting to rendezvous with someone? He paused mid-air, circled around, and hovered. The shapes were coming fast. Down below, chaos whirled. Up here, if for only a moment, as they hovered where they were, it was almost peaceful. 

“REID! REID!”

An angry male voice bellowed at them out of the darkness. Hovering crafts pulled along both sides of Rabbit’s craft. Another group was heading their way. Were they friends or foes? Rabbit and Aaron were being guided towards the water, more to the point, to the huge, shadow shape which was hovering over the water. As Rabbit and Aaron fell in step with the other crafts, a dark-skinned man from the craft on their left reached out and shook Rabbit’s shoulder in one hand. It was hard to tell if the shake was meant in friendliness or not, the man was scowling so grimly. Aaron recognized him as the stranger from the village, from the theatre. The man lifted his wrist and spoke unfamiliar words into the metal bracelet around his skin. 

When he stopped watching the other flyers and he faced the water, Aaron slammed down his feet in alarm, right on top of Rabbit’s feet on the lower bars. A horizontal beam of light had appeared in the sky. It was as if the huge shape hovering over the water was splitting open a giant maw in order to swallow the crafts and the people riding them. He could see inside the beam of light, into a world of gray metal and curious machinery. He smelled a horrid smell that one might have confused with the scent of pickled beets. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He only knew he wasn’t going inside there, not without a fight. 

Aaron was standing up, knocking Rabbit off balance. The young man wavered, wobbled, and lost control of the craft. They were falling towards the darkness below the opening horizon, towards the masts of the ships on the water. The stranger to their left stuck a boom stick into Aaron’s ribs. Energy sizzled through his chest, and the shire reeve sank into unconsciousness. Aaron felt a sickening drop, and then he felt nothing.


	36. Down the Rabbit Hole

Part Eight - Chasing Rabbits

Chapter 36 -- Down the Rabbit Hole

 

“Reid, come on. We have to move.”

The bay door was closing, but not fast enough. A raider’s craft skimmed the surface of the metal, and he got a handhold on the sliding frame. The man from the alley was shouting orders at everyone else as they climbed off their small personal crafts and pushed them up against the bay walls, where they clung by magnetic means. 

“Get the clark to the bridge!”

Reid had to have help to haul Aaron to his feet. It took two yeoman to get the unconscious shire reeve upwards and mobile. The rest of those assembled rushed out of the bay into the corridor. 

“Captain! Dr. Reid is on board!” the other man shouted into his wrist mic as he went over to confront the raider hanging on to the bay doors.

As Reid and the two yeoman three pounded through the metal corridors of the airborne vessel, dragging Aaron along, they could hear the pings and hisses as cannon fire bounced off the outer hull. Reid analyzed the antiquated design of the ship, and recognized it from the catalog of registered vessels stored in his brain. This was the Queen Anne. She had been scheduled for decommission the last time anyone had logged an official report about her. Things must have taken a turn for the worse if she was still in use. One hundred years of service, three stem-to-stern refits, and sixteen captains later, the Queen Anne should by all rights be sitting in the bottom of a coastal bay, providing shelter for marine life. If they didn’t get out of here fast, that might well come true. 

As Reid rounded another corner, nearly to the bridge, a figure popped out of the approaching corridor, brandishing a palm-sized device which blinked and beeped at his approach. Reid stopped in his tracks when the woman holding the device put a hand on his shoulder. She ran the device up and down and all around him, shaking her head in despair and joy. 

“Reid! I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again! You need to report to the medical bay as soon as the captain clears you,” the dark-haired woman commanded, putting the palm-sized device against his throat. “Two years, Dr. Reid? Two goddamned years? I’m scheduling you for emergency surgery. Those sensors have been in there 12 months longer than they should be. There’s a good chance your vocal chords may have suffered permanent damage. I’m surprised you can eat at all, the way your throat is closing up. I can’t guarantee your voice will ever be the same. You report to my medical bay as soon as you are cleared by the captain.” 

Reid nodded vigorously, and turned the woman to face Aaron, sticking her device towards him. The machine went absolutely frantic with noise. The shire reeve was stirring back to consciousness. The woman came alive in anger and fear. 

“Dr. Reid, you know the policy against bringing natives on board!”

Reid took Aaron’s hand, and pressed it to his own heart. 

“I don’t care how attached you’ve gotten, you don’t bring natives across the river, especially natives infected with the plague!” the woman shouted. The two yeoman holding Aaron aloft shuddered and released him. Reid rushed to support him, pushing him against the metal bulkhead. Reid shook his head no, and pushed her device back at Aaron. 

“What?” the dark-haired woman whispered. 

Reid shook his head no again.

“But that was the whole point, wasn’t it?” she gasped. “You blend in, you find the necessary plant ingredients, and you find yourself a plague victim. You test and test and test until you find a cure. Why in the hell have you been testing cures on a man who doesn’t have the plague?!”

Reid grinned, and shook his head no again. 

The woman fumbled in her bag at her side, and took out a cylindrical metal object. Aaron was left dizzy, watching their conversation back and forth. It was clear from his confusion that he had no idea what they were saying to each other. He focused his eyes on Reid, pleading. The woman put the cylinder against Aaron’s arm, and the shire reeve yelped in pain as the cylinder nipped him. 

Reid held tight to Aaron as the shire reeve bellowed. Aaron rested his head back against the wall, staring in disbelief at the dark-haired woman. Her face was thin, gaunt even. Her dark eyes were getting wider by the second. Reid was toying with a tiny smile. Every person around Aaron seemed on the verge of starvation – thin as a spindle. 

Aaron protested loudly and angrily when the woman pushed the cylinder against his arm again. She was reading the symbols appearing on the small viewport on the side of the device. Aaron was inspecting the small, round, red dots on the underside of his forearm. It looked as if a very miniscule eel with a sucker mouth had bitten him. 

“I don’t believe it. I mean, I do, I’m seeing it with my own eyes, and I’ll need to verify the results, of course, but, I still don’t believe it. Reid, you did it,” the woman whispered. Reid glanced down at her cylinder, checking out the readings for himself. His mouth tipped sideways slightly. “Do you know what this means, Spencer? Do you know what this means? The Proctor won’t allow this. He will silence you anyway he can.”

Reid nodded, trying to help Aaron back to his feet. He hauled one of Aaron’s big arms around his own thin shoulders, and heaved him up. The shire reeve wasn’t sure he wanted the help to stand. He turned on Reid, roughly shaking him, but the two yeoman hovering nearby both pulled small rods with handles from holsters, and aimed their hands at the native. Reid got in front of Aaron and shielded him.

“Put away your weapons, and escort Dr. Reid to the bridge. You, big guy, you’re coming with me. You try anything funny, and I’ll drop you to the deck like a sack of moldy potatoes. You understand me?!” the woman said, eyes blazing. 

Aaron sputtered in utter confusion and stared at Reid for an explanation. 

“He doesn’t speak our language?” the dark-haired woman understood. 

Reid was shaking his head no. 

“Reid, I’ve got him. Report to the bridge,” the woman insisted. 

When Reid let go of Aaron’s arm, the shire reeve felt a wave of horror and panic. The young man hadn’t gotten two steps away before the shire reeve reached out, took hold on his shoulder, and pulled him back. The woman wasn’t sure if he was hugging him or slinging an arm around him to hold him hostage. 

“He doesn’t trust you, but he doesn’t want to be separated from you either. We don’t have time for this,” the woman growled impatiently. She dug in her bag of tricks, and Aaron took a cautious step back. “I’m coming with you to the bridge,” she explained, pushing the bag back to her side. 

Reid pulled Aaron along the corridor, and the others follows. They reached the portal to the bridge as the ship rocked. Voices warred with each other across the small space while monitors beeped warnings, and sparks flew outside the view window ahead. Aaron came to a screeching halt right inside the room, against a metal railing where two officers were standing. 

“Helm, bring us ‘round,” a blonde woman shouted orders from a central seat in a pit down below the railing. Aaron tripped over his own feet when he recognized she was the beggar woman from the Wooden Planks. Clearly she and Rabbit were closely acquainted indeed!

“Captain, we are under orders to evacuate. The Minister is aware that we have Dr. Reid on board. She wants him taken to safety at once. Visitors, Captain.” 

A man to their left had spoken while giving the newcomers a disdainful stare-down. 

“First Mate, do not dictate to me. Helm, bring us ‘round. Inform the Minister that we are setting a course for immediate evacuation, but we are not going to leave without getting in a few shots. If we don’t intervene, those bastards are going to lay waste to the castle and the village, and I for one am not going to stand by and watch that happen.”

“Captain, I must advise against this course of action. This vessel is falling apart beneath us. She is not equipped with the same level of weaponry as the opposing forces. You’re going to get us all killed.” 

“First Mate, stow your mouth. Helm, why are we not coming ‘round?” 

“We’re coming ‘round slow and steady, Captain. This isn’t one of those hyper-drive birds you used to piloting. You can’t whip Annie in a quick circle. The communications array is hanging on by a thread. We’re having to shake off raiders left and right. Some stupid bastard has a bay door open down on twelve, causing a drag in our wake. Give me a damned minute.”

“Helm, continue to bring us ‘round steady. Be careful with the communications array. Weapons, give me a broad sweep with the 750’s. We don’t want to defoliate the local forests or poison the vegetation. We don’t want to hit the castle or the village either.” 

“The natives are firing at anything that moves, ma’am. They can’t tell us apart from the raiders. It’s not but metal shot, but it’s big-ass metal shot. They must have a hundred, heavy-bore guns on top there. Like as not to tear a hole through the hull, us being this low to the ground and all.”

“Helm, get us up above the cannons’ range of fire.”

The shrieking equipment and the groaning, moaning ship were overwhelming Aaron’s senses. He didn’t know which way to look, and he didn’t know if he should believe that any of this was real. Sensing his confusion and growing uneasiness, Rabbit held onto Aaron’s hand. The physical bond between them served to calm Aaron at least a little.

“Captain, you are steering this ship into the path of their mother vessel,” the man to their left was interjecting. 

“First Mate, you speak out of turn one more time, and I’m putting you off on the highest tower of that castle, and I’m letting you take your chances.”

“Aye, Captain. Understood.”

“Captain, the Minister sent armed reinforcements our way. We’ve got a squadron of fighters passing Cape Hatteras and the Diamond Shoals in three, two, one. ETA to our location, ten minutes at current speed,” a female officer reported from the right. 

“Shit. They’ll fly right through us if they don’t hit reverse thrusters in time,” the weapons officer commented to the helmsman. 

“Armed reinforcements, sure, but armed against whom?” the captain pondered before barking more order. “Helm, aim for their mother vessel. Weapons, give me hot lead, on command,” she shouted. 

“Aye, Captain,” the two people seated closest to the view window replied in unison. 

“Captain, the Minister is on the comm. She’s demanding to know why you haven’t evacuated the engagement zone,” the first officer interjected, and not without a hint of smug glee in his voice.

“Because I mean to engage the bastards,” the captain muttered. 

“Captain Spaulding, you have your orders. I want you to set a course for Canaveral Base, this second. Do I make myself clear?” A new voice echoed over the bridge, originating from the ceiling, as far as Aaron could tell. 

“Madam Minister,” the captain called out in protest.

“This is no time for impudence, young lady.” 

Reid tucked his head downward and bit back a snorting chuckle. Aaron wondered if Rabbit knew who the disembodied voice belonged to, and why she held such sway over the rest of those here. 

“The natives, ma’am. I can’t abandon them at a time like this.”

“Armed reinforcements are en route. Spaulding, you are there to evacuate my son, and that’s what I want you to do.” 

“Understood, Minister. Queen Anne out.” 

“Shall I set a course for evacuation, Captain?” the helmsman questioned. 

“Set a course right across their bow. Give me hot lead. I mean to tear a hole in the bastards, disable them as we head off. Brace yourselves in case he anticipates me and takes evasive maneuvers.” 

Aaron felt a wave of nausea rise through his core as the image on the view window swayed at a dizzying angle. His stomach was churning. Castle Rossengild and her banners were close enough to touch. Cannons were pumping out blasts at the looming dark shapes which blocked the stars. As the castle passed under the view window, Reid put an arm around Aaron and sat him down against the railing they had been leaning on. Reid curled protectively around him, holding tight to the metal railing with both arms. Aaron understood this meant that he might want to get a good grip on something solid. The problem was that his whole world was spinning, literally and figuratively both!

“Captain, he’s raising up. He is anticipating,” the helmsman warned. 

“Damn it! Bring us up to match his speed, but do not overshoot him.”

The ship lurched and whined, rocking unexpectedly. 

“Helm, steady,” the captain ordered. 

“We’re taking twenty-pounders from the back left tower. They’ve got a bloody good shot manning that deck.” 

“Weapons, on my command. Ninety degrees right and down on my mark. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five.”

“That’s a million to one shot,” the first mate cautioned again.

“Fire!” the captain exclaimed, her gray eyes gleaming like polished metal. 

Aaron flinched backwards and bellowed when the view window lit up with flashes and sparks of yellow light. The dark shape looming over the fields beyond the back of Castle Rossengild was not visible at first, but then the sparks of yellow struck home. An oval of gray metal coalesced as it lit up brilliantly with blue lightning and explosions of fire and shattered metal. A small, glass ball in the top of the opposing vessel went up hot and white as it shattered into pieces. The veil of darkness which had bathed the ship, keeping it from sight, vanished entirely as its hovering position began to destabilize. The left front sagged towards the ground. Some of the flames backwashed over the view window as the Queen Anne rose up from the fields barely in time to avoid crashing into the forests that were racing right for them. 

“Direct shot, Captain. Their bridge has been destroyed. She’s going down,” the weapons officer grinned. 

“You do realize you’ve dropped a ship full of raiders into the hands of the enemy? You have exposed us to the natives,” the first mate grumbled. “The Proctor will not be pleased with you.”

“Helm, set a direct course for Canaveral Base. Top capable speed. Give us a parting view of the Proctor’s friends, eh?” the captain grinned, not responding to the first mate’s acid remark. 

Aaron moaned loudly as the view window swung wildly once more. The visual disorientation was too much for him. He took in the image of a gigantic, oval, airborne vessel crashing down behind Castle Rossengild. The castle’s banners were highlighted by the flames, but the castle itself was relatively unharmed. It had been a very close thing though. The same could not be said for the fields of crops behind the castle. Master Ironwood would have to till and replant the crops. 

Aaron put his head down between his knees, and lost the contents of his stomach on the floor. Reid petted the shire reeve’s back, tenderly soothing him. The captain was on her feet, facing the newcomers behind her seat. She straightened her dark blue jacket with light blue trim before she gave Reid a quick bow. 

“Dr. Reid. It is an honor to have you on board once more. Has Dr. Blake taken it out yet?” Spaulding asked as she touched her own throat and winced. 

“I intend to take Dr. Reid to the medical bay now, by your leave, Captain. He’s scheduled for emergency surgery so I can remove the band of sensors. I’d appreciate it if you could keep the ship steady to Canaveral, so I don’t risk damaging his vocal chords any further. Do you think the quartermaster can reprogram a translator disc for the native?” the dark-haired woman asked. 

“Dr. Blake, we will attempt to keep the Queen Anne steady for you, and I’ll visit the quartermaster about a translator,” the captain agreed, giving a quick bow. “Can we get a swabbie to clean this up?” she asked as she motioned to the sloshing pool of vomit. As Dr. Blake helped Reid pull Aaron towards the portal, the helmsman asked the captain another question.

“Do you think the Proctor was on board, Captain?” 

“Too much to hope for, Lieutenant Honeywell. We would never be that lucky. Initiate a course for Canaveral.” 

“Aye, Captain.”


	37. A Voice in the Wilderness

37 -- A Voice in the Wilderness

 

“Careful there. You’ve been out for a couple hours. You’ll be groggy at first. Drink this. Clear your throat. Give us a test.” 

Reid fought to sit up on the surface beneath him. He was swaying one direction, and the ship was swaying another. He was horribly off-balance. Dr. Blake helped him upright, and put a plastic cup in his grip. It was filled to the brim with fizzy, clear liquid which sloshed onto Reid’s hand as he put his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Don’t mind the taste. I’ve cauterized your wounds, but it might tingle going down. Your immune system needs the boost,” she chuckled. 

Reid lifted the cup and poured the horrid liquid past his lips. He felt every last drop as it passed down his throat. He locked gazes with the shire reeve, who was sitting up against the wall between two other beds. Aaron was tightly-manacled both hands and feet, and was apparently attached to the bulkhead where he sat. Reid swallowed once, twice, and cleared his throat before giving Dr. Blake back the cup. Aaron was regarding Reid with a growing sense of disbelief and confusion.

“Dr. Blake, was it really necessary to clap Aaron in chains?” Reid whispered. 

Aaron’s face lit up with wonder and panic at the same time. Reid cleared his throat again. 

“Well, your voice isn’t perfect, but not bad for someone who’s had thirty-odd sensors attached to his throat for two years. You won’t be singing madrigal songs any time soon, but given what you’ve been through, your vocal chords will heal, if you don’t strain them unnecessarily,” Dr. Blake replied.

“In the meantime, you’ve got an invaluable source of data concerning the native plant and animal life of Virginia, and a complete medical analysis of every native that I have taken a physical sample from,” Reid reminded her, casting an eye towards the circular, black band of sensors which lay in a surgery tray on the nearby counter. They were dotted with blood, and covered with scar tissue where his body had tried to incorporate them into his flesh and blood. 

“I have had an initial glance at the sensor readings. It’s amazing how much data you’ve compiled. The sensors can differentiate between every single plant and animal you have ingested.”

“The data should prove useful,” Reid replied. 

“Dr. Reid, you took an incredible risk, staying underground the way you did.”

‘Medicus?’ Aaron thought. She keeps calling him ‘medicus’.

“I had no choice.”

“You could have requested evacuation earlier. You should never have risked so much. I don’t know what you thought you were going to accomplish. What if you really had been killed? The Proctor must have suspected you of no good. You should have been more careful.”

“Does he know you were working on the inside for us?” 

“I escaped before I was discovered.”

“You had to flee?” 

“Yes. I had no choice.”

“I don’t remember you having a medical degree before,” Reid murmured. 

“Every one of us is doing what we can to aid the resistance. I wanted to make myself useful here. They needed a medical doctor more than they needed a linguist, though I must say, I can’t wait to sit you down and have you teach me all you have learned about their language!”

“What about James?”

“My husband remains the Proctor’s loyal servant, as always. You risked too much, Reid. If we had lost you…” Dr. Blake lamented. 

“I am sorry about James. You have risked as much as I have, but it was worth the risk if we’ve succeeded.”

“You should never have brought him with you,” Blake remarked, tossing a glance at Aaron, who had followed their entire conversation though he did not understand a word of it. 

“I need to keep him safe and sound. I need him near me. Why did you put him in chains?”

“He got angry when I knocked you out. He lunged for me when I cut into your throat. I had no choice but to ask Morgan to restrain him.” 

“It is the bond between rabbit and master,” Reid explained. “Aaron wanted to protect me.” 

‘Lepus et dominus’ Aaron found himself mouthing some of the words. 

“He’s willing to kill to protect you. His beautiful bunny?” 

“Morgan!” 

Reid slid off the medical bed to put both arms around the dark-skinned man who appeared from an open portal to the outside hallway. The doctor wobbled, but his friend caught him. Morgan shifted his boom stick to his other hand and hugged Reid back. He had a bruised face and a busted lip. It must have taken him some time to get that raider out of the bay.

“Reid, you need to use your voice as little as possible for a few days,” Dr. Blake cautioned him in a motherly tone. 

“Which might be tricky, considering that the Proctor has demanded that the Minister from Canaveral must bring you before the full council. He’s on the warpath after what we did in Virginia,” Morgan murmured, chuckling. 

“Word spreads fast,” Reid observed with a hurt look.

“Spaulding broke the First Law. She crashed a raider vessel in the hands of the enemy. She’s exposed us to the natives. There’ll be a price on her head now. Who knows what manner of grisly torture she’s abandoned those men and women to?” Blake fretted. 

“Baron Rossen is not the sort of man who would torture anyone,” Reid retorted. 

“It’s already all over the wire. The Proctor tried to keep everything out of the news, but every allied province knows by now. The council wants a full accounting of your mission and your actions over the last two years.” 

“I can’t imagine the Proctor was pleased to hear that,” Reid rumbled. 

“He has received an official summons as well. One of his missing has been returned to him. A clark has been raised from the dead. His own minister is waiting to see which way the wind blows before deciding to back the Proctor’s actions, or to disavow any knowledge of the mission,” Blake interjected.

“The Proctor claims that his ship was there to evacuate you, and that you’ve been kidnapped by the anarchist, resistance forces. But we all know that if Captain Spaulding hadn’t had the Queen Anne out of tactical maneuvers over Quantico, you would have been resting in the Proctor’s brig right about now,” Morgan warned.

“Brig?” Reid shivered. “I doubt he would have bothered with the brig,” he added, eyeing the band of sensors once more. 

“To say nothing of what he would like to do to your friend over there,” Dr. Blake interjected. “You should never have brought him along.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave Aaron behind,” Reid retorted, clearing his throat again.

It was unnerving for Aaron, the way the three of them kept darting looks at him while talking to each other. 

“The Minister would be a fool to take you into that den of jackals. You’ll never get out of the council meeting alive,” Morgan commented. 

“The Proctor doesn’t want his hidden agenda aired in the light of day. He won’t attack Reid openly,” Blake said. 

“Is it true, Dr. Blake? Did this crazy son of a bitch really do it? My yeomen were arguing in the lift. What did they overhear in the way to the bridge?” Morgan asked.

“I’ve tested and retested the samples several times. The doctor’s friend is plague-free,” the dark-haired woman replied. “I don’t know how you did it, Reid, but…” 

“Blood, sweat, and tears,” the young man replied. 

“I’m going to need hard proof of his initial condition.” 

“Which you should be able to find in the sensor data.”

“Reid? You exchanged fluids with him during your first encounter?” Blake asked. Morgan bristled. 

“Aaron fed on me the first day, yes. He kissed me on the mouth. I believe the strength of my blood antidote ignited his sexual urges, which is not uncommon between master and rabbit. That kiss should provide you more than enough data to reconstruct his initial condition. Morgan, would you please stop growling?”

“He touched you without an oath,” Morgan was muttering. “By all rights, I should kill him.” 

“Reid, if you have actually managed to find a cure for the plague, that isn’t going to fix everything. It’s only going to complicate matters that much more. Half of the ministers are baying for your blood, and the other half wants your case notes translated for the scientific community to examine.” 

“There are selected passages that I wish to expunge before anyone else sees that data,” Reid insisted. 

“I don’t doubt there are,” Blake frowned at him, her eyes sad and motherly again. “We’ll be in Canaveral in thirty minutes. You need to make yourself presentable.”

Reid looked down at his dirty clothes, covered in soot, blood, and probably a little bit of vomit. 

“I’ve looked worse,” he assured her grimly. 

“You might consider a quick haircut along with a shower and a change of clothes.” 

“You don’t like it?” Reid asked, fingering his long locks. “I thought it looked rakish, perhaps a little rebellious.” 

“You look like deranged killer,” Morgan informed Reid with a pat on the shoulder. 

“Did the quartermaster scare up a translator for Aaron?” Reid asked, getting down on his haunches and approaching the manacled man very carefully. 

“Not yet,” Blake sighed. “What happened to yours?” 

“I lost mine when I was attacked the first time, about three months in. I’ve been struggling ever since to learn their language. There are several regional dialects, not to mention the differentiation in manner of address between the upper and lower social classes.” 

“You mean you didn’t learn it in two days like the time we dropped you in Quebec to find Agent Snow when she went missing?” Morgan tormented. 

“No. It’s rather more complicated, learning a language in a place where ninety percent of the population doesn’t read or write, or own a book,” Reid retorted. 

“Careful there,” Morgan cautioned. As Reid approached Aaron, the shire reeve tensed up. 

“I’m not in any danger. We’ve bonded. He’ll trust me,” Reid murmured in one tongue before kneeling down beside Aaron. He murmured a soft word or two in a different language, and uncoupled the manacles on Aaron’s ankles. It was obvious that Reid had difficulty with other language. The shire reeve sat still. He tilted his head and gawped at the young man. Reid murmured another tender word in a soothing if scratchy voice, undoing the manacles on Aaron’s wrists. 

All hell broke loose. Aaron lunged to his feet, and slugged Reid backwards with one punch which carried him over the medical bed and down onto the floor in an ungainly pile of limbs. Morgan ignited his boom stick and stabbed it against Aaron’s chest. Aaron dropped to the ground in an unconscious heap. Armed yeoman appeared from every possible portal into the medical bay, brandishing their weapons. Dr. Blake knelt down on the floor beside Reid as the younger doctor pulled himself up to his knees. He was blinking away stars, and holding bloody hands to his face, afraid to let go. 

“Morgan,” Reid mumbled around the blood and loose teeth. “You’re going to give him permanent heart problems if you don’t stop doing that.” 

“I’m putting the whoreson in the brig, and I’m not letting him out again until he calms down,” Morgan grumbled, hauling Aaron’s unconscious body upright with the help of the nearest yeomen. “Reid, if your plan doesn’t work, and we can’t negotiate with the natives for food, I’m just going to start picking off the slow ones, and eating them,” Morgan muttered on the way out of the medical bay. 

“Not in any danger?” Blake questioned, gingering inspecting Reid’s face.

“Aaron is not always like this,” Reid whispered, ashamed. 

“I bloody well hope not,” Blake replied. “Oh, Spencer. Look at you. The Minister will be horrified.”


	38. The Brig

38 -- The Brig

 

Aaron was lying on the horizontal, blue surface which he assumed was a sleeping bunk. The surprisingly-cushiony material rested on top of a metal base attached to the wall. The bunk was somewhat better than a straw pallet on a stone floor in a dark, damp cell. He had awakened on the cold floor, and wondered if the material was metal or not. It felt like metal, but it was the color and consistency of stone. He remained confused on the topic. 

When he had climbed up on the bunk to get off the cold floor, he discovered the bedding turned warm to the touch, warding away the chill of the six by nine cell he was being kept in. There was a metal u-shaped bowl attached to the wall at a height of 18 inches. There was a metal o-shaped bowl attached at a height of three feet. He wasn’t sure what they were meant for, but he was going to have to use one or the other for a private, natural purpose. Soon. He was desperate to relieve himself. 

When he had awakened, his head was spinning and pounding. He laid there on the bunk until his head and stomach were at ease again. He folded his arm over his eyes to block out the lights from above – lights produced not by candles or lanterns, but by thin strips of glass, he thought. 

The shire reeve took several deep breaths, and wished he could catch a small nap while he had the chance. He could not have slept if he wanted to though. There was so much adrenalin rushing his veins that he might be awake for a week. Regret filled his chest and burned through his stomach. He reasoned that the pain he felt was not the result of being shocked with boom sticks twice either. As angry as Aaron was with Rabbit ….Reid…… as angry as he was with whoever the hell that was….the moment he had let his fist fly, he felt horrible about what he had done. He had promised Rabbit that he wouldn’t hurt him, and yet his first response when losing his temper was to strike out. 

Events from the last few weeks were falling into place in Aaron’s brain, although not in a neat and orderly fashion. He might have compared the situation to seeing a beautiful, stained-glass window only one small portion at a time. Until you’ve seen the entire window, you have no idea what the scene depicts. Unlike the fragments of glass which were supposed to fit together perfectly at the seams to form a picture, these fragments and pieces in his brain were falling into ruin on the floor. 

There had always been an undeniable strangeness with which Rabbit had acted. It made sense now why he had trouble understanding the laws and mores of the Virgin Land since he clearly had not been born and raised there. He had difficulty comprehending the language. The way that he continued to insist that he was not merely an apothecary’s assistant, but a doctor himself – that certainly stood out. Everyone here had addressed Reid by a different title: Clark, Medicus, and Reid. Hadn’t the dark-haired woman also called him Spencer? Which one was his actual name? Aaron had no satisfactory explanation for Rabbit’s supernatural green thumb. But his need for a private workspace had to be connected to that. 

Aaron glanced over at the guards who were standing just on either side of the entrance to his cell, but against the opposite wall. They were close enough to watch him, but far enough away that he couldn’t get his hands on them. To touch them, Aaron would have to pass through a shimmering curtain of white light. Considering the fact that both of the guards, and the other two men who had walked down the hallway towards another cell, had fastidiously avoided going through the portals until the light curtain was turned off, Aaron was willing to bet that passing through that strange, translucent light would hurt him, maybe even kill him. 

The guards were thin by comparison with his own guards and knights. They were wearing dark blue uniforms, not gray ones. Everyone that he had encountered during this bizarre, walking nightmare looked as if they had missed many meals in their time. Granted, that Morgan character, he was muscular, and intimidating, but even he looked undernourished. Aaron tried not to imagine how much more dangerous he would be if he had gotten three full meals a day! 

Rabbit’s peculiar eating habits – those somewhat made sense now. Knowing that his comrades were on the verge of starvation at home must have flavored every bite of food with guilty and self-hatred. He was blessed with plenty while his friends were going without. Even Aaron was feeling guilty as he thought about it.

The guards saw Aaron watching them. One leaned over to speak to the other, while keeping his eyes on Aaron.

“Corpus crassius.” 

“Corpus impudicus,” the other responded, smirking. 

Aaron wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of watching him shiver, because he wasn’t afraid. He was angry – at himself, at Rabbit, at the entire situation. He couldn’t blame his blindness entirely on his being addicted to Rabbit and his strong blood antidote though. Aaron scolded himself for not being more observant. He had always lived by his ability to read people, and yet he had completely failed to understand what kind of dangerous creature he had been harboring this entire time. 

Even though Aaron was chastising himself for not seeing through Reid, he knew he was completely unjustified to feel that Rabbit had been tricking him all this time. He felt guilty and disloyal for even thinking it. Rabbit wasn’t dangerous at all, was he? True, Rabbit had handily dispatched two men on the field of battle, but that had been in defense of his master. There was a tickle in the back of Aaron’s head, a niggling in his conscience. It was not fair or right to say that Rabbit had ever tried to harm Aaron, because he had not. Rabbit had never raised a hand against Aaron except in self-defense. There was no denying that something odd had been going on, and for quite some time, but it was unfair to say that Rabbit set out to deceive Aaron from the start. 

No doubt, odd things were happening. This airborne sailing vessels? Hovering, headless, legless horses? Gray-clad raiders being attacked by the blue-clad people who had come in from the east to rescue Rabbit, from over the water. Rabbit was part of this, but how? He was from across the river, as Frogga had so eloquently put it, but which one? Even though Rabbit wasn’t from the Virgin Land, Aaron knew he wasn’t fooling himself when he believed that Rabbit had felt at home at Castle Rossengild, at home in Aaron’s arms. He might have been a stranger wherever he went – one of those odd souls who had never known a true home his entire life until he came to be by Aaron’s side. 

This vessel was in motion. Aaron was having flashbacks to his temporary incarceration with the pirate queen from the Carolinas, of being chained up in her hull in the dark of the night, feeling like he was stuffed inside a dank, smelly cave. This ship was anything but dank and smelly. It was airy, and filled with light, and surprisingly clean! Unlike the regular to-and-fro of a vessel that sailed on water, this vessel did not have heavy shifts of movement except when taking evasive maneuvers in battle. Aaron reasoned it must have had a means of stabilizing the normal shifts and slides that one would expect to feel if they were in motion. He had to be lying completely still with his eyes closed before he felt anything at all. But they were in motion – of that he had no doubt. 

Aaron should have been scared out of his wits, and yet this entire strange night had felt like a sort of magic to his mind, not unlike Frogga and her supernatural abilities. He hadn’t entirely discounted the possibility that this was all a dream as well. He was not without his doubts about the situation. Where were these people taking him? His thoughts were turning maudlin and worried. Was he ever going to see his beloved Baron Rossen again? Would he set eyes on home again? There were so many things left for him to say, to do. He couldn’t leave his baron at a time like this! Not when the baron would need him most! 

Aaron wondered then how long Rabbit had been away from home, away from family. Did he have family? Where was his home? Who were these people who had come to find him? Clearly, the Morgan fellow was the most thrilled to have found him. The female ship’s captain was too. But the others, as much as they treated the young man with deference, they also treated him with distance. Where did Reid belong, if not at Aaron’s side? 

Footsteps!

Aaron’s heart fluttered. Rabbit was coming! Aaron could feel his beloved’s presence like a drug in his blood. Aaron had planned to lie where he was, and not react to seeing the young man again. Treat him like the devious, duplicitous spy and villain that he was! Let him understand how much his betrayal stung. Yet those gossamer strings that tied Aaron to Rabbit and Rabbit to Aaron, they tugged at Aaron’s heart and pulled hard on his conscience. He could not let himself be cruel and unkind to Rabbit. 

The guards heard the footsteps and came to attention, pulling themselves upright when the tall, thin form came around the corner and into the hallway. Aaron sat up straight and almost fell off the bunk in surprise. 

Was that really his Rabbit?

The young man was clad from head to toe in a dark blue uniform. It was a tunic and long pants, paired with slim, tight boots which came up to the knee and were fastened on the sides with a metal, tooth-like seam. Rabbit had taken a bath and shaved his face. His nose and chin were bruised. There was an impression of a set of knuckles in the black and blue marks. Aaron was overwhelmed with a wave of horrible regret for having struck him. 

Rabbit had his long hair pulled back in a golden band at the nape of his neck. Emblazoned across the chest of the dark blue uniform tunic were five white hares, identical to the four blue tattoos which designated his position, his curse, his blessing, and his station in life regardless of which side of the river he was on. 

Their eyes met, and Aaron breathed again. He felt himself smiling with relief. All his fear and loathing disappeared, replaced by longing and hunger, and more than a fair amount of desire. Rabbit felt it too. He smiled back at Aaron and stepped towards him. 

“Clark?” the guard on the left stammered, putting a deactivated boom stick between Rabbit and the cell where Aaron was being held. 

Rabbit gave the guard a stare that would have curdled milk. He began to walk past the boom stick, and the guard put a hand towards him. Rabbit stared the man down again, and the guard lowered the hand. 

Aaron was remembering the weird phrases that Morgan had spat venomously at the night watch guards who had cornered him and Rabbit in the alleyway in the village of Quantico, the night they had gone to the theatrical performance at the Wooden Planks. Morgan had kept repeating something about not touching a clark without an oath. So Rabbit must be clark. But what was a clark to these people? An occupation, that much was apparent. But this was not simply a man who kept a lord’s business matters in tidy shape. Nor a holy man who copied religious texts. Nor a man who recorded the history of a time or place for posterity. 

“Clark, no transit,” the guard pleaded. Aaron tried to focus on their words, hoping some might start to sink into his brain. 

“Clark. Reid. Medicus. No transit,” the second guard interjected. 

Reid. That must be his name. Aaron remembered how Rabbit had misspelled his name on the small note the baron had enclosed. Reid, not Reed. No wonder Rabbit’s eyes had been so large when Frogga had called him Master of the Reeds! She had been right on the mark! Aaron reasoned that a clark must be his occupation, a title of address like Shire Reeve. The woman who had cut that blood-soaked, tentacle monster out of Rabbit’s throat, she must be a doctor. Reid had called her ‘Medicus’. A medicus was a doctor. Rabbit’s name was Reid, and he was a clark, and also a doctor. What was a Spencer? 

“Why don’t you touch a clark without an oath?” Aaron asked, rising up to his feet and coming closer to the edge of the curtain of white light. The others were squinting in confusion at the sound of Aaron’s unfamiliar language. 

Rabbit’s eyes lit up. He clicked his fingers against the small round disc in his hand, and spoke into his palm. The piece of jewelry in his hand must have been bewitched! Words emerged in a pleasant female voice. Was there a fairy trapped inside that small round disc? 

“One does not touch a clark for their own protection. I am poisonous, in a sense. You yourself know how addictive my blood is. If you touch me, and the antidote on my skin sinks into your skin, you risk falling under my sway.”

“How will an oath protect me from that?” Aaron wondered. 

“It does not. You would take an oath to protect and serve me, and to keep me from harm, and to keep me from engaging in unlawful carnal knowledge with anyone my minister has not deemed acceptable for procreation.” 

“Unlawful carnal knowledge?” Aaron whispered. The disc repeated words back to Rabbit.

“U. C. K. All procreation is regulated by the Fertility Department, especially so for clarks.” 

“Are all rabbits also clarks?” Aaron asked. 

“Only four-hares and five-hares, the especially-poisonous ones,” Reid answered with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “We tend to be smarter, have more of a thirst for knowledge. Good at scientific and intellectual pursuits, like myself and Dr. Blake.” 

“I see the translator works,” Morgan spoke as he came around the corner in Rabbit’s wake. Aaron was busy processing the words and what they had meant. So when Rabbit had protested that having sexual contact with Aaron would have been unlawful, he had been serious? He wasn’t being modest or shy. He was being truthful and literal?! He could kiss and touch, but he wasn’t allowed to have sexual contact without permission? 

“I need you to release Aaron to me,” Rabbit spoke to Morgan. 

“No! He tried to drop you out of the sky, and then he punched you in the face. I’m not letting that hairy, dirty madman anywhere near you!”

“Morgan, he is essential to me.”

“You can come get your science project after you’ve met with the Minister, and then only if she’s agreed that you can have him.” 

“Morgan, we are bonded. I need him. He needs me.” 

“Reid! You aren’t bonded to him. You can’t bond with him. He’s disgusting! The Minister would never approve of him, never,” Morgan whined. “Reid, that fat bastard stays right where he is until the Minister authorizes his release, and I’m pretty confident she’s going to see my side of this over yours.”

“You think so?” Reid challenged, not without a smile. “Shall we call her?”

“You are not taking him out of that cell.” 

“Yes, I am.” 

Reid clicked the device off, bent closer, and whispered to Morgan. Both the guards were plainly horrified at whatever Reid was saying to the other man. Morgan tilted his head back, laughed out loudly, and reached for the square of blue dangling from his side. Reid turned the translator back on. 

“Yes, I would pay good money to see the Proctor’s face when you bring this hairy bastard before the council of ministers,” Morgan said as he approached the curtain of white light. “Hands up in front of yourself, like this. Now,” he ordered, demonstrating that Aaron should link his wrists together and lift his hands towards his face. 

“No. You will not put him in manacles again, and you’re not putting a collar on him either,” Reid protested. 

“Suddenly you’re going to tell me the correct procedure for prisoner transport?” 

“He is not your prisoner. He is my guest. And I think if you had ever been forced to wear a collar or chains, you would have a different view too,” Reid replied sternly. 

“Has that bastard kept you chained up?” Morgan was livid with rage suddenly, ready to walk through the light curtain to get to Aaron.

“Others have, but not him,” Reid sighed impatiently. “Aaron has been nothing but kind and gentle with me. He has never put me in chains, and I won’t see him put in chains either.”

“I’m not giving him another chance to hurt you,” Morgan retorted. 

“No collar. No manacles. No chains,” Reid insisted, taking Morgan’s blue square and laying it flat against the wall outside of Aaron’s cell. The curtain of white light dissipated. Reid put his hand forward, and pinned the tiny round disc to Aaron’s chest. He tenderly touched the disc again. 

“Who in the world are you?” Aaron murmured in his own tongue.

“Rabbit. Lepus? Master, mine,” Reid replied in Aaron’s language without the help of the translator. He had reverted to awkward phrases and incomplete sentences again. 

“All this time I….I… I had no idea who you really were.” 

Aaron lifted a hand towards Reid, and three ignited boom sticks came towards him in warning. Reid impatiently waved Morgan and the other guards back. He took the shire reeve’s hand, and placed it against his chest, over his heart. 

“You have every right to be angry. I have deceived you most grievously, but it was for the greater good. Please understand that I have done what I have done to help you. It was never my intention to harm you. Anything but that,” Rabbit whispered his own language, and the translator repeated words back to Aaron. 

The shire reeve slid his fingertips up the hollow of Reid’s throat, caressing the ridge of his previous scar. It had been joined by two more, faint, almost imperceptible lines. If they hadn’t been red and fresh, he might not have even seen them. If he had not seen Dr. Blake pull the tentacle monster out of Rabbit’s throat, he would never have believed it had been there. 

“I am sorry there isn’t more time to explain. When there is time, when you are ready, I will answer any question you want to ask,” Reid promised. 

Aaron nodded in agreement. 

“In the meantime, we have to meet with the Minister. But you have to get cleaned up first. You’ll scare the daylights out of her in your present state. Come with me. Be wary of Morgan. He is chief among my guardians. But then again, so are you, usually. Perhaps you two could bond with one other over how you can keep me from getting arrested, tortured, and killed in the next twenty-four hours?” Rabbit joked. There was a slight tinge of humor to the words which made Aaron manage to give a sickle, uneasy smile. It was obvious that Reid was nervous and scared too. 

“Please forgive me for striking you,” Aaron pleaded. Rabbit’s face warmed with tenderness. 

“You are already forgiven. You were scared and upset. I do understand. Have I not struck out at you in fear? Do not worry. We are monitoring the situation in Quantico. I will find a way to get word to the Baron that you are safe, and you will be home very soon,” Rabbit promised. 

Aaron nodded in reply. He continued to rub his fingertips into Reid’s throat, enjoying the feel of the vibrations beneath the skin. 

“Your voice—it’s deeper than I thought it would be,” Aaron murmured. “How long have you been unable to speak?” 

“Nearly fourteen months.”

“That must have been hard.”

“You have no idea,” Rabbit tried out a small smile, his amber eyes twinkling.

“There will be no shutting him up now,” Morgan lamented playfully. Reid flashed the one-finger hand-gesture at him, and the other man cackled with delight. 

“We need to get you cleaned up before we can meet with the Minister,” Rabbit said to Aaron. 

“It’s going to take a lot more than a bath and clean clothes to fix him,” Morgan muttered. “Maybe you’d better scheduled a flea dip too.”


	39. The Minister

39 -- The Minister

 

Morgan, Reid, and Aaron stepped into a round, circular room. It was too small to serve much purpose beyond prison cell or closet. They had walked an interminable, long corridor only to reach this tiny room. What was the purpose? Aaron was puzzled and wary. Not an hour ago, Rabbit had guided him naked into a small round space not unlike this one. Heated water had gushed at him from a round disc on the wall. He had been spattered with all manner of soapy substances from hidden holes, then was doused once again with more scalding hot water. The experience had left him somewhat shaken, and understandably wary of small round rooms. 

Morgan went in first, and turned to face forward, leaning his boom stick to one side. Rabbit entered next, gently tugging Aaron by the sleeve of his borrowed clothes. The shire reeve had been given a dark blue uniform with golden trim, identical to the one Morgan wore, but without the insignia at the throat which Morgan had. Aaron wondered what Morgan’s rank was. Reid faced forward like Morgan, so Aaron pivoted, stood with his feet slightly apart. 

“Is happy to eyes,” Reid spoke hesitant words in Aaron’s language, taking the edges of his master’s shoulders and straightening his uniform. He slid his hands down Aaron’s sides, then hugged him around the belly, burying his nose in the nape of Aaron’s neck. “Happy to eyes?” Reid questioned. 

“Pleasing,” Aaron replied. “I am pleasing to your eyes.” 

“You pleasure my eyes? You are purty?” 

“Men aren’t pretty. Men are handsome.”

“I was called ‘purty’ many times.”

“Except you. You are pretty,” Aaron replied, reaching back to pet Rabbit. 

“I pleasure your eyes?” 

“Yes. You do pleasure my eyes,” Aaron replied. 

“I pleasure all of you?” 

“Maybe later,” Aaron whispered back as Morgan’s boom stick got between the two of them and pried them apart. 

An unfamiliar voice spoke from the top of the small room. Reid clicked Aaron’s translator for him. 

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan. Identity confirmed. Welcome, Derek Morgan. Doctor Spencer Reid. Identity deceased.”

“Obviously not deceased,” Reid pouted, annoyed. 

“Initiating bio-scan. Identity confirmation in five, four, three, two, one. Identity confirmed. Welcome back, Doctor Spencer Reid. Caution: unknown agent present. Please confirm identity.” 

Morgan rolled his eyes and sighed, passing the small blue square which hung on his belt up against the ceiling as far as he could reach. 

“Override,” Morgan requested. 

“Caution: unknown agent present. Please confirm identity.” 

“Security override. SSA Morgan, Derek. Alpha 742,” Morgan growled impatiently.

“Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan. Identity reconfirmed. Override security code accepted. Preliminary bio-scan of unknown agent in progress. Please wait.” 

Aaron wondered how much longer they were going to stand in this little room. What was the delay about? Who was the woman speaking over their heads? In the interim, Aaron tried to plot out what kind of hierarchy was represented in the people he had met so far, the ones who were not gray-clad Mary’s Land raiders. Rabbit’s uniform was blue with the white hares on the chest. No one else had had that same uniform yet. Was it unique to rabbits, or only to rabbits who were clarks? 

Morgan’s uniform was blue with gold trim, just like every guard Aaron had encountered. It stood to reason that Morgan must have been a guard, but of what rank? He had been barking orders to everyone, including Reid, so he must be of higher rank. Or perhaps because he served as a guard to Reid, Morgan felt he was in a position to order him around. 

The captain and her officers had worn blue uniforms with light blue trim, so they were of a different category than the guards were. Morgan had not barked orders at her, come to think of it. She must therefore be of equal or higher rank to Morgan. 

Dr. Blake had not worn a uniform at all. She had worn a tunic and trousers. Perhaps she was not part of their army? Perhaps she was a civilian? 

“Preliminary bio-scan complete. Please state official name for unknown agent,” the voice from above requested. 

“Lord Aaron of Hotchner, Shire Reeve of the barony of Quantico, Virginia,” Reid replied loudly and firmly. 

“Doctor Spencer Reid. Identity reconfirmed. Please do not speak for unknown agent. Thank you, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unknown agent, please state official name for computer record. Thank you, unknown agent.” 

“Tell her name,” Rabbit whispered to Aaron. 

“Her who?” Aaron whispered back. Reid pointed upwards. Aaron stared suspiciously at the ceiling and said loudly, “I am Lord Aaron of Hotchner, Shire Reeve of the barony of Quantico, in the Virgin Land.”

“Unknown agent voice sampling completed. Unable to locate primary language in databanks. Computer will begin to compile primary language for future reference. Official identity assigned to bio-scan. Welcome, Lord Aaron Hotchner, Sheriff of Quantico, Virginia.” 

Pocket doors slid closed, and Aaron caught his breath. They were trapped in the tiny room! Had he said something wrong!? He reached forward in alarm, both hands landing on the closed doors. Morgan was snickering, hanging his head. 

“No worry,” Reid soothed. He moved his hand over the oblong panel of stained glass next to the closed doors. The small circle at the top of the panel glowed when he touched it. Was it magic? 

The floor lifted under their feet at an alarming rate. Out of reflex, Aaron spun around and sat down flat, bracing his back against the wall and his hands on the floor. Morgan was leaning against the wall behind, holding his breath to keep from laughing out loud. 

The wall behind Morgan had turned transparent. Beyond the muscular man’s silhouette, the world was alive with lights and motion. The small room they were in was rising into the air inside a column of glass! Small vessels floated around the tower they were rising through. A city lay beyond that transparent wall, but no city like Aaron had ever been in. All those tales of glass and metal cities with golden spires that reached the heavens were true. He was seeing the proof with his own eyes. Panic rose in his throat like bile. 

Rabbit sat down on the floor beside Aaron, and the shire reeve scrambled to take his hand. Morgan became serious again. 

“Reid, he must stop touching you. The Minister has not and will not approve of him,” Morgan chided. 

“We have bonded,” Reid reminded Morgan, smiling tenderly at Aaron. 

“I don’t care if you’ve got matching tattoos and a full set of chinaware. He is not permitted to touch you.”

“I touch him. Much different,” Rabbit smiled. Did he realize he had spoken in Aaron’s language? Morgan popped Reid in the head with the small ball at the bottom end of the boom stick, not hard, but enough to remind him who was boss. Reid winced and ducked downward, rubbing the back of his head. 

“The Minister is going to vomit kittens when she sees you,” Morgan frowned. 

“More than likely,” Reid reverted back to his own language. When he spoke his native tongue, his words flowed more easily. Aaron was becoming more accustomed to the small voice from the translator which repeated everything back to him. Morgan and Reid hardly noticed it at all. Rabbit gazed out the transparent back wall, and held more tightly to Aaron’s hand. “Can you tell me what happened in Friendship, Morgan?” 

The other man’s face went ashen and solemn. He cleared his throat, and faced the city beyond, because he could not look Reid in the eyes at the moment. 

“How did you know about the attack?” Morgan wondered. 

“I watched from our tower. Aaron lent me his spy glass.” 

“We knew the Proctor was plotting something, but we had no idea what. You know the man better than most. He’s always got a plan. There have been rumors for weeks that he has been amassing a hidden fleet. Dr. Blake managed to get intel to us before she was forced to escape. Vessels were being transferred to strange locations, rerouted mid-trip to different destinations, with new captains being assigned at every turn.”

“The Proctor is amassing a fleet of ships on the western border of the Virgin Land, under cover in the wilds beyond,” Reid reported. 

“Near to Berkeley then? But the fallout there? How could they possibly survive?”

“It’s been many years since I have been to the Berkeley. Who’s to say there actually is fallout to be concerned with?” 

“We have to tell the council of ministers what the Proctor is doing.”

“We have no proof.” 

“We have you.” 

“Friendship, Morgan. What about the people in Friendship?” 

“We were able to evacuate some of the population,” Morgan replied. 

“Some?” Reid echoed, his voice getting tight. 

“The Proctor is keeping a tight grip on all the ships of the line, diverting any vessel that the ministers have requested, giving them excuse after excuse for why the ships aren’t available. He has basically grounded most air traffic. We had to get creative. I faked a set of orders, and we got past security at one of the knackers yards in Cherry Point. We snatched as many derelict vessels as we could lay our hands on.”

“That’s why you’ve got the Queen Anne,” Reid gave a tiny smile. 

“We were able to get thirty ships up and running in four days. That’s all the time we had.”

“Four days?” 

“It wasn’t possible to get everyone out of Friendship in time. I won’t lie to you, Reid. The death toll was astronomical.” 

“It was a neutral city with no military purpose. They were scientists, pacifists, people with families and children. What justification did the Proctor give for attacking and destroying Friendship?” Reid was getting more upset. Aaron felt the panic rising in his own chest. 

“His usual spiel. ‘Evidence has been found that they are working against the common good.’ He had them all declared enemies of the state’.”

“Enemies of the state?” Reid echoed. “100,000 men, women, and children. How many were you able to evacuate?” 

“20,000.”

Reid was blinking back tears. Those words had been like a punch in the gut. Pain rushed through Reid and echoed through Aaron. 

“I’m sorry, Reid. We only had eight hours, and thirty ships. We did the best we could. I know you worked with some of the scientists from Friendship. I think the Proctor must have learned your location from one of his spies. He has people in Virginia. We’re sure he does. He’s been obsessed with finding you. You or your corpse. Perhaps he’s been tracking you this whole time. I mean, Dr. Blake pulled out the sensors in your throat, but who’s to say that the Proctor didn’t put other sensors inside you, who knows where?”

“You’d better hope he doesn’t have access to the same information that I provided for Dr. Blake, or the entire resistance is in jeopardy,” Reid warned. 

“The resistance is already in jeopardy. We know he has moles inside. There is one reason and one reason only for the Proctor to attack Friendship. He must have learned that you were alive, and he knew if you were going to escape across the river, you would head for Friendship. It was the closest city. We had people in position in case you had to evacuate on short notice.” 

“Who?” Reid worried. 

“Ethan Mouton.”

Reid’s head bowed low. “No, no, no, no, no….” he whispered. 

“When you initially disappeared, he showed up on my doorstep and demanded to be part of the search and rescue team. When I told him he couldn’t go into Virginia, but that I’d give him a post outside the perimeter, he jumped at the chance to help in any way he could. When you were declared dead, he refused to believe the Proctor’s reports. He stayed in Friendship because he knew you’d turn up eventually. He stayed there, waiting for you.” 

“Did he make it out?” Reid whimpered. 

“No. He didn’t. I’m sorry,” Morgan whispered. “He refused to evacuate ahead of the others.” 

“But he… he can’t be….”

“He was pushing everyone else in his unit onto the ships, hanging back, counting his people to make sure they were safe,” Morgan explained. Aaron felt the waves of sadness and nostalgia washing over Rabbit. “He made sure we had everyone else on board, and then, he gave me a folder, and told me to leave. He was heading to the next shelter to help more evacuees. He said he would meet me at the next launch port in one hour, but by the time we got back, it was too late. It was too dangerous to get back inside the hemisphere. The integrity of the bio-dome had been compromised. Everything had gone up in flames.” 

“What was in the folder Ethan gave you?” Reid sniffled. 

“I threw it in a storage unit on the ship, didn’t think about it until all was said and done. It’s back at my place. I’ll bring it to you.” 

“Did you open it?” 

“No,” Morgan murmured, shaking his head.

“Did you sweep for survivors after the attack?” 

“The raiders bombed that city back to Stone Age, and dropped canisters of 620 in their wake.”

Reid covered his mouth, his eyes wide with horror. “620 is a forbidden weapon. It’s been banned for more than fifty years.” 

“Reid, I hope there were no survivors,” Morgan amended. 

Rabbit rocked in place as he brushed off his face, drying away tears and pulling his emotions in check. He wobbled to his feet. Aaron rose up too, but hung onto the wall while reaching a hand to Rabbit again. 

“Ethan?” Aaron asked. “He is a friend of yours? Were you bonded to him?” He hoped to quell the jealousy in his heart. It was obvious that Reid had feelings for this person. Aaron didn’t want to be insensitive, but he wanted to know the extent of their relationship. 

“No, we were not bonded. We were raised in the same maturation pod, in The Flatlands, in the far west,” Reid stammered. “I’ve known him since we were children.”

“The Flatlands?” Aaron said, while he thought ‘Raised in a maturation pod?’ Children were raised like peas? 

“Las Vegas,” Rabbit sniffled. 

“How far west is that?” Aaron wondered. 

“Far beyond what you can see from your tower.”

“What’s it like there?” 

“Flat. Dry. Not many trees.”

“I’m sorry about your… um…. pod person,” Aaron offered. 

“Ethan was a musician, not a fighter. He would have never gotten involved in the resistance if it weren’t for me.” 

“Reid, it’s not your fault,” Morgan offered gently. “You can’t take this all on your self. Ethan knew what he was doing. You would have been proud of him, watching him work that tower, moving everyone else toward the ships. He gave his life defending others. You cannot mourn his loss. You must celebrate him for who he was. We must not mourn the honorable dead.” 

“We must not mourn the honorable dead,” Reid intoned. 

The moving room stopped. Aaron’s heart was sympathizing with Rabbit’s pain, but his brain was attempting to process the view out the transparent wall. He edged closer to get a better look. Now that they weren’t zipping along at breakneck speed, he could get a better idea of where they were.

They must have been at the very ceiling of one of the tallest spires in the city of glass and metal. Wisps of cloud cover traced the air to the top, while lights and colors played far below. Small rivers of vessels moved about, like fish in the water from this high vantage point. The ocean was visible from here, extending far to their right from this location. The shoreline of the landmass was visible too, with thin slivers running out at a further distance. There were smaller cities of glass and metal dotting the edge in both directions. This building was not standing in the ocean, but above a small lagoon, Aaron thought, between the mainland and the slivers of land. In the distance further south was another metal building, but this one was low and flat. Small crafts buzzed around that building, coming and going from open mouths on both sides. Aaron thought about the path they had taken to get here, walking through long corridors where lights chased their steps, illuminating their way for them, until finally they had reached the circular structure which housed this tiny room. 

“That’s where we came ashore. That’s the port?” Aaron asked, motioning below. 

“Yes. That’s Canaveral Base. Most of the complex is underground. It takes less energy to heat and cool, and it also leaves a smaller above-ground footprint. Not only that, it’s harder to spy on someone you can’t see. The Proctor has eyes everywhere.” 

“He’s probably watching us even now,” Morgan muttered, glancing warily around. 

“Captain Spaulding will keep the Queen Anne ready for our return, if the Minister lets us return,” Reid explained. 

“If?” Aaron shivered. 

“I will do my best to persuade her,” Reid promised. 

The pocket doors hissed open to reveal a darkened foyer. Rabbit took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and tightened his grip on Aaron’s hand. The shire reeve wasn’t sure which one of them was shaking harder. 

“Dr. Reid, you’re late.”

Aaron’s eyes went to the source of the voice while his translator piped words back to him. That new voice had been the one giving the captain orders from above on the bridge of the ship. A woman in her mid-fifties stood on the other side of the foyer. She walked into the light, her blue robe accentuating her height. She was remarkably tall, with short blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. She had a long nose, a broad mouth, and very long limbs. She was thin as a rail. Aaron felt grossly corpulent in comparison. 

“My apologies, Minister,” Rabbit replied, nodding to her deferentially. 

The Minister was fighting a smile and tears as well. 

“Two years and six months. I haven’t laid eyes on you in two years and six months,” she lamented. 

“My apologies, Minister,” Rabbit bowed his head to her again. 

“I’m going to scratch Proctor Gideon’s eyes out when I see him again,” the woman growled under her breath, all the while maintaining a tight, dangerous smile. “He told me you were dead. He swore to me that you had been attacked and killed by the natives.” 

“I’m sorry. I was not aware that he had lied to you. Minister, it’s very important. Have you had any news on the situation in Quantico?” Reid asked. 

“The situation is complicated,” the Minister smirked, a hint of anger showing through. “We have received a message from the baron who rules Quantico. He is holding thirty raiders for ransom, demanding the return of his sheriff and the sheriff’s rabbit? I’m assuming that by sheriff, he means this man, and by rabbit, he means you?” 

The woman turned her icy blue eyes at Aaron, and glanced him up and down before giving her attention back to Reid. 

“Is it true what I’ve heard?” the woman asked. 

“What have you heard?” Reid’s voice trembled. 

“That you have broken your vows. That you’ve been engaging in unlawful carnal knowledge without the benefit of my permission?” 

“Mother, you haven’t seen me in two years and six months, and all you’re worried about is whose bed I’ve been in?” Reid adopted a voice that somehow walked the line between annoyed and whiny. 

“Mother?” The word was off Aaron’s lips before he could stop himself. Had the translator spoken correctly?

“It is the duty of a clark to obey the Minister’s wishes,” the Minister barked at Reid. “Whether or not she is his mother should be irrelevant.” 

“Mother?” Aaron glanced at Reid for confirmation, but the young man was too busy getting angry. 

“I did whatever was necessary to survive. I’m sorry I didn’t always have the option of stopping to consider how you would feel about what I was doing, or who I was doing,” Reid growled back at her tempestuously. 

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man! I did not donate my ovum to the Fertility Department, and stand for nine months outside of the incubator room, watching you develop fingers and toes, so you could stand there and sass me to my face. I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Reid replied. His ears had been pinned back by her acid anger.

“I should have never listened to the Proctor! He swore to me that you would be safe. When he told me you were dead, I was devastated!”

“I’m sorry,” Reid whispered. 

“I have been a puppet in that man’s hands! He turned my grief over your death into a tool against innocent people,” the Minister sniffed. “You don’t know how much I cried when he told me you were dead,” she murmured, coming forward and reaching out to touch Rabbit’s cheek. “My beautiful, perfect boy.” 

“I would have been dead if it weren’t for Aaron. He saved my life. He took me in. He fed me, and clothed me, and made sure I was safe. I owe him my life, and my gratitude, and even your displeasure will not change what I feel for him,” Rabbit replied. Aaron’s heart was all aflutter with those words. He couldn’t help the smile that warmed his face. Oh, but the Minister was not pleased at all! Her blue eyes were like pools of bubbling acid. 

“Darling boy, I understand you may have been in dire situations which called for unorthodox survival methods, but it stops today. Now that you’re back where you belong, your duty is to stay by my side, and to preserve yourself until I decide who is best for you,” the Minister demanded.

“Minister, I am not staying in Canaveral with you. Aaron and I are bonded. My place is at his side. I am returning to Quantico where I belong now,” Rabbit insisted. 

The Minister stopped short, actually stumbled a step. Her thin face filled with hurt, which she turned to vent on Aaron. She took a deep breath, but Rabbit stepped in front of Aaron, shielding him from the Minister’s fury. The shire reeve wondered for a moment if perhaps the Minister was a dragon in human form, and her intakes and exhales of breath were serving to operate the bellows in her chest. Was she preparing a blast of flames that would sizzle Aaron alive? Anything would have been possible for him at this point!

“My place is at Aaron’s side,” Rabbit whispered as the Minister sputtered, stopped gasping for breath, and gained control of herself again. 

“I blame the Proctor for this,” she growled. “I should never have released you to him. You should have stayed in Las Vegas. You would have been happy there as a custodian of knowledge and history.”

“The Proctor would have found a way to claim me, with or without your permission, Minister. He will not be refused,” Reid said softly. 

“Potential,” she whispered in reply. “ ‘Your son has so much potential, Minister. I want to make sure he achieves everything he was meant to achieve’. That man is a snake. I want to crush his head beneath my heel and make a belt from his skin.”

“When will the council of ministers convene?” Reid asked. 

“Spencer, I cannot take you there. It would be suicide for you to walk into that room and stand before the council of ministers, and tell them you’ve discovered a cure for the plague,” the Minister refused.

“Are they so unaccustomed to someone who speaks the truth?” Rabbit countered. Aaron gave Reid a sideways stare.

“What?” Aaron gasped. 

“They’ll think you’ve gone mad,” the Minster warned. 

“Then we will give them proof,” Reid insisted. 

“You can’t do it, because they won’t believe you. Worse, if they do believe you, it will mean mass chaos. We have to keep quiet about this until we are sure beyond a shadow of a doubt,” the Minister tried to persuade him. 

“The word is already out, Madam Minister,” Morgan murmured respectfully.

“What do you mean, the word is out?” she grumbled. 

“Dr. Blake did preliminary tests on the Queen Anne. She confirmed that Aaron is plague-free.” 

“I’m…. I’m what?” Aaron stammered. 

“You no longer need my blood antidote to survive,” Reid explained quietly. “You might find it psychologically-necessary, but I think for several days, you have been plague-free.”

Aaron gazed down at the pin-point sucker mouth bites on the underside of his forearm. 

“When did you…. How did you…. Is that what you’ve been doing in the Virgin Land? Trying to cure for the plague?” 

“Yes.”

“You are an apothecary?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” Reid nodded. 

“A doctor too?” 

“Yes,” Reid smiled faintly. “I am a doctor.”

“Don’t lie, Spencer. You are not a doctor in the sense he means. You are not a trained medical professional,” the Minister refuted. 

“I am a doctor,” Reid insisted.

“In name, you are a doctor. You have advanced degrees in chemistry, engineering, and mathematics. You have lesser degrees in philosophy, psychology, and sociology. But you are not a medical doctor,” the Minister chided. 

Aaron listened to the long list of words, faced Reid slowly, and squinted at him. He blinked quietly to himself for a moment or two. It was going to take a while to digest all of that. He wasn’t even sure what some of the words meant, with or without a translator. 

“I don’t think you understand the severity of this situation, Spencer,” the Minister interrupted.

“Are you sure about this?” Aaron asked, interrupting her right back.

“About what?” Reid asked. 

“Are you sure that I am cured? This is not witchery or illusion?”

“Dr. Blake confirmed the results. You saw for yourself.” 

“Can you cure other people?” Aaron wondered.

“I certainly hope so,” Reid grinned for a second. 

“Spencer, you aren’t listening to me! If you are the only person who knows how to produce the cure, and your sheriff is your only proof that you have achieved the cure, the only thing the Proctor has to do is have you both declared enemies of the state. He can seize you by law, and if he can, he will silence you forever,” the Minister said fearfully. 

“I have written detailed notes into a book which is in our quarters in the castle.”

“Where no one there can read them? All the Proctor has to do to refute you is kill this man and destroy the evidence that he is cured.” 

“He is not the only one I have cured,” Reid replied. Was he bluffing? Aaron thought he might be. 

“Would you mind telling me who else you’ve been experimenting on?” the Minister demanded.

“At this juncture, that would be premature, not without letting Dr. Blake test them to confirm this hypothesis.”

Aaron was sure Reid was bluffing. Did he not trust the Minister? 

“Young man, if you stroll in there and tell the council of ministers that you’ve found a cure for the plague, what do you think they are going to do? How do you believe they’ll react? Do you imagine they will be at all happy?” she asked. 

“I hope they will be. This cure will make negotiations between ourselves and the Virginians possible.” 

“You were sent to Virginia to blend in with the locals, and to find suitable plant and animal life that we could transplant and replicate to feed the populations. You were not sent there to find a cure the plague!”

“I did complete my primary mission,” Reid protested. “You should not be this displeased with me. Why are you so angry with me?” 

“You don’t understand, Spencer. The Proctor is not ignorant about what you’ve been doing. He has been amassing a fleet of ships in an unknown location.”

“Their location is not unknown. He is hiding them in the wild beyond the Virgin Land’s western borders,” Reid said. Morgan nodded in agreement. 

“Berkeley is uninhabitable,” the Minister cringed. “How is that even possible?”

“Clearly the Proctor has been lying about the levels of contaminants in the air and the water there, in order to conceal his actual plans,” Reid decided grimly. “Any advanced scouts from Virginia who cross into the wilds are never seen again. Aaron can confirm that, and there is also another man who can give eye-witness testimony to what happened there, to his family. Lord William of the Mountains is from Shenandoah, which borders the wilds to the west.” 

“I don’t care how many witness you have. What you fail to understand is that if the Proctor learns you’ve found a cure for the plague, and that the ingredients are in Virginia, he will lay waste to the Virgin Land to keep you from curing the native population.” 

“Then we have to stop him!” Reid insisted. “How long until the council convenes? Do we have time to get a message back to Quantico?” 

“They will convene at ten in the morning. You have approximately eight hours to prepare what you’re going to say,” the Minister replied, her shoulders sagging with dread. “There’s no way to stop the Proctor. It may already be too late.”

“We need to get word to Baron Rossen that Aaron and I are safe,” Reid pleaded. 

“I’ll send a runner. But he’s not going to believe those words from just anyone,” the Minister agreed.

“Do you have pencil and paper? The Baron will recognize Aaron’s handwriting.” 

“As you very well know, paper is a highly-restricted material. What’s a pencil?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“Why don’t you record a message to play back for him?” Morgan suggested. 

Reid gave Morgan a skeptical glance, shaking his head. 

“They don’t have running water or modern sanitation. Do you really think the baron is going to believe you if you shove an electronic tablet in his face, and show him a moving, speaking portrait?” 

“I have an old book. We’ll use one of the blank fly leaves,” the Minister suggested. “But we will also record a message to show him. In the meantime, we need to get the word to the resistance. We need to take measures to counteract the fleet that the Proctor has on the far side of Virginia. We need to do it fast.”


	40. Honey

40 -- Honey

 

“What do I do?” Aaron asked, clearing his throat. He had gotten quickly accustomed to the enchanted disc, and the pleasant voice which repeated his words in Rabbit’s tongue. Rabbit reached over and touched Aaron’s chest, turning off the device. Morgan’s eyebrows bunched together. His fingers feathered out over the grip of the boom stick in his hands. He didn’t like being left out of the conversation. Although Morgan had picked up a few words, it was still disconcerting to him. 

“Hold like this,” Reid demonstrated, lifting the flat tablet to reflect his own image, like a rectangular, enchanted mirror. He moved his right thumb to a tiny circular design which Aaron had taken to be a piece of illumination on the glassy surface. Rabbit rubbed the design, and there was a chirp from the tablet. A green light was blinking at the top center. “I help you?” 

Rabbit cleared his throat and swallowed hard. His voice had been stronger before, but was getting softer the more he spoke. 

“Yes, please,” Aaron murmured, hating himself but wanting Rabbit’s help nonetheless. Rabbit put his arms around Aaron, stood behind him, and leaned against his shoulder. Morgan growled deeply. Reid’s amber eyes traced his guard’s face, and a playful smile ticked up one side of his somber mouth. 

“Turbulentus,” Reid murmured, making a face as sour as Morgan’s. The guard shook his head and made himself stop frowning. 

“He doesn’t like me,” Aaron observed somewhat unnecessarily. Rabbit smiled a tiny bit wider. 

“I like you.”

“He and you, um, you and he…..?” Aaron let the rest of the question trail off. Rabbit understood though.

“No, no, no,” Reid shook his head emphatically. “Morgan and I. No kisses. No touches. I am only for you, Master.” 

“Good,” Aaron murmured, turning sideways and touching his nose to Rabbit’s closest cheek. 

“No kisses. Talk now?”

“I don’t know what to say,” Aaron admitted. “I wrote everything down in the page of that book the Minister gave you. I have to say, I cannot imagine you and her and…. breastfeeding,” Aaron shuddered as he spoke. Rabbit’s thumb jumped back and forth, starting and stopping the recording. He touched Aaron’s translator disc.

“Say that again?” Rabbit requested.

“I can’t imagine her breastfeeding you as an infant,” Aaron said. He mimicked the action in question, and Rabbit thought back to the squire Karl, and how his wife Rose had put her baby against her chest. Reid actually sputtered, blushing red. Morgan was waiting for an explanation of the practice, wondering what action Aaron was mimicking. 

“Although the Minister is the woman who donated her ovum to my genetic code, and technically speaking she is my mother, she did not carry me in her womb, and she did not raise me in her home. I assure you, she would find the practice of attaching any infant to her breast to give the child nourishment both horrifying and revolting.”

“What do you mean, she didn’t carry you in her womb?” Aaron repeated, thoroughly confused. 

“I gestated in an incubator like everyone one else does.”

“What is an ‘incubator’?” Aaron repeated the unfamiliar word. 

“Master, we don’t have much time,” Reid said, eyes narrowed, voice hoarse. “Tell the baron that you are safe, and unharmed, and you will be home soon.” 

“Is that true?” Aaron wondered. 

“I will take you home as soon as we have met with the council. If any man tries to stop me, or tries to harm you, they will taste my wrath,” Rabbit threatened. 

“A bunny with bite,” Aaron agreed. 

“Aaron, I will see you home safely. You have my word on that,” Rabbit insisted. He dotted a small kiss to his lips, and they both heard Morgan ignite his boom stick. They pulled apart slowly. 

“Your guardian is very touchy,” Aaron smirked. 

“Speak,” Rabbit said, levelling the tablet for Aaron. The shire reeve cleared his throat, and put his hands up under Rabbit’s hands to steady the rectangular mirror, but also to keep Rabbit right where he was. 

“My dear Baron. I hope that you are safe and unharmed. In case you are in doubt, I did write the message to you in the book that this man Morgan will give you. Rabbit and I are alive, and unharmed as of yet. I have such tales to tell you,” he promised, shaking his head in wonder. He watched his own expression reflect back at him. He had to be concerned whether or not the baron was going to think Rabbit was coercing the message out of him, owing to the fact that Reid was wrapped around Aaron and standing behind him. “What else should I say?” Aaron asked Rabbit. 

“The presentation ceremony. Is it possible for him to postpone that for a day or two? I know he is anxious to have you there.”

“Considering recent events, it is likely he will postpone until next month,” Aaron replied. “I should like to ask if there has been any word from the Lady Guinevere, or the Lady Penelope, or if Mace ever brought me that empty keg from Mother Flora. Has he heard from the Lady Prentiss concerning the murder of John Grosbeak? I need to know what’s going on, but there isn’t time to ask.” 

“Is there any message that you could relay to him, to assure him it is you, and not an illusion, nor magic, nor deception? Something known only to you and him?” 

“The first day we met,” Aaron began, his voice softening with grief and humor. 

“Yes?” Rabbit asked. 

“The first words he spoke to me.”

“What were they?” 

“ ‘I’ll have what he’s having’,” Aaron chuckled softly. 

“I don’t understand,” Rabbit frowned. 

Aaron was blinking back laughter and tears both. 

“He will know what I mean,” the shire reeve murmured, looking at the tablet again. His own dark eyes stared back at him. He put on a severe face, and pressed him thumb over Rabbit’s thumb, disengaging the strange device. 

“Do you not wish to say more to him?” Rabbit wondered. 

“No. That will suffice,” Aaron decided. 

Rabbit offered the tablet to Morgan, who folded it in a heavy cloth before tucking it into the bag on his side. Next Morgan pushed another cloth-covered object inside the bag. It was the book that Aaron had written in, feeling guilty with each stroke of the writing implement that Rabbit had provided for him. Aaron lifted that implement now, staring at it. Interesting enough, it seemed to be made of a long, slender well of ink on top of a piece of clear plastic which to his mind was very similar to the quill nibs that he used. Is this what Rabbit had been attempting to construct? 

The shire reeve realized he was staring much too closely at the object, because Rabbit was smiling at him. Morgan had turned to leave. He motioned his head to Reid, attempting to draw him across the room to talk privately. Aaron pretended that he didn’t mind. He put down the writing implement, got up from his chair, and walked over to gaze out of the transparent wall. This wasn’t a window. The material did not feel like glass. It actually felt a little like skin, smooth and supple. 

Aaron watched Reid and Morgan’s reflections, and hoped his translator could pick up their conversation from a distance. 

“What is it like?” Morgan asked.

“What is what like?” Reid wondered. 

“You and him, the hairy monkey. Don’t play coy. Speak frankly,” Morgan grumbled. 

“What do you want me to say?? Do you want graphic details about where he touched me and with what?”

“Gods above and below! I don’t want details. That’s the last thing I want. The bond. You keep saying you’re bonded. It’s one thing to donate of yourself to the Fertility Department. We’ve all been through that. It’s compulsory and clinical, like visiting the dentist. It’s quite another thing to actually have physical, carnal contact?” Morgan whispered. “What is it like to bond with someone physically?” 

“Oh,” Reid frowned. “I have found that the emotional impact of physical contact all depends on who is touching you.” 

“You and the hairy monkey over there? What was it like?” 

“Why do you keep asking?” 

“Is that why you’ve grown attached to him? Is what you shared with him worth risking you life?”

“I’m not risking my life for Aaron because we were physically intimate,” Reid huffed, affronted by the suggestion. 

“Of course not,” Morgan muttered skeptically. “Lila Archer hypnotized you with one open-mouthed kiss.”

“I was young and stupid, and she is a five-hare rabbit, so I think I can be forgiven for having a particular weakness where she is concerned!” 

“You were twenty-three. Hardly a child. Look at him! He’s like a wild beast with all that hair. I bet his people like that kind of thing. He must have had years of practice with carnal contact.” 

“Morgan, if you’re that bloody curious, invite Aaron to bed and find out for yourself.”

Aaron couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up in his throat, not only from Rabbit’s acidic remark, but for the priceless expression of horror on Morgan’s face. 

“Turn that damned translator off!” Morgan shouted at Aaron. A sudden inspiration struck the shire reeve – he used the one-finger hand gesture that Rabbit had flashed when he had been speechless with anger. Morgan saw the gesture and puffed up like a poisonous adder. Reid looked mortified, but also amused. He chided Aaron with a dart of a glance for antagonizing Morgan, but immediately sprang to his defense right afterwards. 

“Aaron has not spent his life, roaming about the Virgin Land, sharing carnal contact with everyone he lays his eyes on. When a rabbit and a master bond together, that bond is usually monogamous. We have genuinely bonded. I wasn’t being figurative. We have developed a physical, emotional, and psychological attachment. Aaron has always been monogamous with his rabbits, who up until me, have always been female,” Reid defended. 

“Wait. They can have carnal contact with anyone they want, and yet they choose to only have carnal contact with one person?” Morgan blinked.

“Yes.”

“That’s crazy.” 

“Morgan?! Why is this concept so hard to fathom? I am bonded to him, he is bonded to me. We are bonded together. It’s not that difficult! When you meet the one person that’s right for you, it won’t seem like such an alien concept.”

“What did that man do to you?” Morgan gasped. 

“Don’t you have an important message to deliver?!” Reid’s voice rose as it got tense. Morgan sputtered, clutched his bag, and pointed his boom stick at Aaron.

“You, hairy beast, keep your hands off my clark while I am gone. Reid, I will be back before you have to face the council. I will not let you go in that room unguarded,” Morgan muttered. “That crazy baron of his better not try to stick me in the dungeon with those raiders, or there will be hell to pay,” Morgan warned on his way out of the room. Pocket doors hissed open at his approach, and then swiftly closed behind him. 

Aaron turned the translator off again. Reid’s eyes traced Aaron’s form in the window. He loosened the split collar of his uniform, and approached the shire reeve very carefully. 

“Go up, go outside, no breathe. No can breathe,” Rabbit whispered, correcting himself. 

“What does that even mean?” Aaron wondered. “What was Morgan asking you?” he added. 

Rabbit almost smiled in reply. He was clearly reluctant to answer directly. 

“I’m stunned he left you and me alone,” Aaron added. 

“You and me, not alone,” Reid denied. 

Aaron’s eyes darted suspiciously around the room. They were in a guest suite in the Minister’s glass spire. Unlike Aaron’s living quarters, which were comprised of a spacious room with a loo off to one side and the tower above, this space was divided into tiny rooms which each served a separate function. Aaron wasn’t sure what those individual functions were, but he knew there had to be a reason for the small rooms. 

“We are not alone?” Aaron questioned. 

“We are not alone. Eyes everywhere,” Reid assured him. Aaron began looking for these eyes, wondering what form they might take. “Play of words?” Rabbit added, scratching the crest of his chest through the dark blue uniform. Aaron touched the five, white hares, counting them one at a time. 

“Frogga Ironeye was right,” Aaron realized. 

“How?”

“You really are a five-hare rabbit.” 

“A play of words,” Reid acknowledged. 

“She was right about you all along.”

“Seen with one eye, yes. Maybe seen with other eye, maybe seen not the same.” 

“You had five hares, but you burned one away?” 

“I burned my covers,” Reid said, patting his uniform.

“You burned your clothes to protect the fact you weren’t from the Virgin Land. You’ve been away for two years?” 

“Much long time.”

Rabbit sighed, and touched the translator disc.

“Sorry. I hate sounding like a child. I hope you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Aaron laughed. 

“I can explain more clearly in my own language. My mission was to collect samples of plant and animal life that we could replicate and use to feed the starving populations. That mission was supposed to last three months.”

“What went wrong?” 

“Nothing went wrong. It was uneventful. I wandered the western forests where your highwaymen rule, and went into the cities and villages with great caution. No one took notice of me, except those that I chose to approach. I was attacked on my way to the retrieval point.”

“Who attacked you?” 

“Raiders disguised as highwaymen. They jumped me when I approached the ship, and tried to slice my throat to remove the sensor band. I barely escaped with my life. I lost everything else. All my equipment. All my samples. The only thing I had left was the invaluable data stored in the sensors in my throat.”

“That monster with tentacles that the lady doctor removed?”

“Yes.” 

“You have been on the run ever since?” 

“I had to keep moving.” 

“The Proctor? Is he the one who put you under a fell enchantment, as Frogga said? The one who was like a father to you?” 

“Proctor Gideon and I were once very close.” 

“Were you friends? Or were you more than that? Are you bonded?” 

Rabbit bit his mouth closed tightly. Aaron sensed he had stepped in a dangerous and sticky mire with that question. 

“I suspect the Proctor had designs on me from the moment we met. My maturation pod’s purpose is to protect the ancient texts that are housed in the Flat Lands. The Proctor came to our learning center in search of a particular text. We met by accident – I was in a room in the library where I should not have been in. He discovered me, but did not reveal me to my superiors. We spent the afternoon talking about the texts. He was plumbing my depths to see what I knew. He did not report me to my superiors, but he did…he punished me for being where I did not belong. After he left the Flat Lands, he kept in contact with me. He pursued me earnestly. He wooed me carefully, skillfully. He won my admiration and my loyalty with careful application of flattery and discipline and authority. He convinced the Minister, my mother, that he saw value in me, and that he could shape and mold me into someone who would be useful. If she had known his actual motivation, she would have scratched his eyes out on the spot, I have no doubt.”

“The Proctor wanted you in his bed?” Aaron guessed. 

Rabbit nodded slowly. 

“Does the Proctor always get what he wants?” Aaron asked. 

Rabbit blushed and stared down at the floor. He fussed with the fastenings on his uniform top. It seemed to be irritating his skin. He unhooked the fastenings, and pulled the top off, revealing a thin, sleeveless shirt underneath. The white material was almost transparent. 

“I was young, and impressionable, and very eager for his approval. I did anything and everything he required of me. I’m not proud of that.” 

“How young were you when he first seduced you?” Aaron worried. 

“Twelve.”

“Gods!” Aaron exclaimed. Anger and protective urges roared through his blood. 

“I was not unique. Many of those who are loyal to him, they have been in my position at one time or another over the years. The Proctor is a skilled predator. He uses your body, and he clouds your mind. There is no knowledge but what he teaches you. There is no truth but what he speaks. There is no loyalty except to him.” 

“How did you manage to break free of his spell? When did you decide to start searching for a cure for the plague?”

“After I was attacked at the retrieval point, my mind was filled with doubt. I was marooned, and I had more than ample time to consider why it would be necessary to retrieve the sensors, but not retrieve me. I realized that the Proctor was the one who had ordered my death.”

“Are you sure you weren’t attacked by real highwaymen?” Aaron wondered.

“Quite sure.”

“Why?” 

“If a random highwayman had attacked me, he would have stabbed me through the heart, taken my valuables, and left. When these three raiders in disguise attacked me, they grabbed my throat, felt for the sensor band, and sliced precisely where it was positioned. This could not be a coincidence,” Rabbit insisted, shaking. 

“I believe you. But why?” Aaron soothed. 

“I realized the Proctor must have weighed the possible outcomes, and that he found me wanting in some regard. He decided that while my data was necessary, I was not. Perhaps he feared I might have been comprised while in the Virgin Land. Or perhaps he reasoned that the very fact I had been there at all might prove a risk to his plans.” 

“What are his plans? To replicate food and drink in order to feed people? To negotiate for surplus grains and vegetables?” 

“While that is his stated purpose, I believe he has had a hidden agenda all along. The more I thought about what he might have in mind, the more concerned I became.”

“For yourself?”

“For anyone standing in his way. You. Me. Everyone. He does not wish to replicate your plants. He does not wish to negotiate for your surplus food. I believe he wishes to dominate and enslave your people. He wants to expand his own personal power at your expense.” 

“I’d like to see him try,” Aaron growled. “How did the Queen Anne and her crew know where to find you?” 

“Morgan is my primary guardian. He had suggested that if anything went wrong during my mission that I should leave messages for him in places only he and I would know.”

“How was the Proctor controlling you? Was he drugging you?” 

“Yes,” Rabbit acknowledged. “I was taking medication because he told me I needed it. The longer I was free from him, marooned in the Virgin Land, and going without those medications, the clearer my mind became. I began to feel tremendously guilty that I had helped that man in any way advance his terrifying plans, and I wanted to make amends. I had to make amends.”

“That’s when you decided to search for the cure for the plague?”

“Yes. Always before, the cure has been beyond the reach of our science and your magic as well, I would guess. Frogga Ironeye can wave her staff and turn men into frogs and back again. If she could have cured the plague, she already would have done so.” 

“Why stay in the Virgin Land to find the cure? You could have had Morgan help you out long before now.” 

“No one outside the Virgin Land carries the plague.” 

“How is it possible?! Have you been able to breed it out of the body?” 

“You misunderstand. It has not been bred out. It does still happen. But when it does happen….” Rabbit could not finish the sentence. He was embarrassed and ashamed, and hoping that he didn’t have to spell out the obvious to Aaron. 

“The authorities kill any child born with the plague?” 

“Yes,” Rabbit admitted.

“It is not unlike the parents in the Virgin Land who choose to expose one-hare rabbits because they are seen as having no value,” Aaron offered. Rabbit nodded grimly in agreement. 

“Testing cures is impossible unless you have someone to test them on. It is a necessary evil.” 

“Other men besides you must be searching for the cure as well. That’s why the raiders keep kidnapping plague victims? Why go to the lengths of kidnapping someone else when you could… when you have…. when….” Aaron couldn’t find the right words. Somehow Rabbit understood what he was driving at though.

“They find it unconscionable to experiment on their own children, but they have no qualms about experimenting on strangers,” Rabbit replied. 

“That’s where the people in the Virgin Land came in? For the other apothecaries, and for you. You have been experimenting on us. You’ve been experimenting on me?” Aaron could not help the ghost of anger that flashed through him. Rabbit felt it, and he trembled. 

“Please forgive me for doing so without your consent. I wanted to tell you. I debated telling you.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I was afraid. When I told the truth to other masters, it did not go well. I feared that you might beat me, or sell me, or that you might even kill me.”

“So you reasoned it was safer to deceive me until you saw results?” Aaron questioned. 

“Forgive me. Yes. But I did not deceive you with the intention of harming you. I do so only in an effort to help you.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel much better about being lied to,” Aaron rumbled. Rabbit shuddered and bowed his head. 

“I know. I should have told you.” 

“The Baron suspected you were up to something, and he told me to watch everything you did. We both were sure that you were not trying to harm me, that our emotional bond would prevent you from harming me. I have been cautious nonetheless. You have never given me food or drink. You have never prepared food for me. You have never given me wine from your hand alone. How were you administering this cure?”

“You have received treatments by ingesting my blood antidote.”

“I don’t understand.”

Reid’s voice was rising with excitement. “Science has known for at least a century now that a particular group of chemicals must be introduced into the bloodstream to prevent the virus which causes the plague from reproducing.”

“What?” Aaron said, clearing his throat. 

“Like every other cell in your body, the plague cells must reproduce.”

“What?” 

“Pretend you are a baked bun.” 

“This begins to descend into madness,” Aaron fretted. 

“Your food preparation friend. She lives in your basement.”

“You want me to pretend that I am one of Matilda’s cinnamon buns?”

“For one moment. The bun is made of ingredients which come together to make it a bun: flour, water, yeast, sugar.”

“I follow you.” 

“Take away any one of those ingredients, and you cannot make baked buns.” 

“True. So how does that help?”

“Stop pretending you are a baked bun,” Rabbit sighed, stopping mid-thought. His shoulders drooped for a second, but then his entire body stiffened as it came to him. “Honey!” he exclaimed excitedly as he grasped Aaron’s hand.

“I know what honey is,” Aaron laughed. 

“The cure is like honey.” 

“You used honey for the cure?” 

“No. The cure is like honey. If you eat the pollen from flowers, you are not eating honey. You need bees to ingest the pollen first. The bees ingest the pollen, and regurgitate the nectar. They store the nectar in their hives, where it matures into honey over time. You open the hive, and you consume the honey. Think of me as a bee!” Rabbit smiled brightly. 

“You have to digest the cure for the plague before it will help me?” 

“Yes!” Rabbit exclaimed. “If you were to eat the raw ingredients, you would experience no curative results. However, if I ingest the raw ingredients first, and then my body processes the ingredients, when you drink my blood, you introduce the necessary, processed ingredients into your own system.”

“The plant ingredients which prevent my body from making more plague must pass through your body to be turned into a cure?” 

“Yes!” 

“How many doses are required?” 

“I do not know. I will have to perform a detailed analysis of all the data.”

Rabbit was excited at the prospect, but Aaron was pondering something he was sure that Rabbit hadn’t even considered. 

“What’s your master plan? You’re going to allow the entire infected population of the Virgin Land to feed from you or fuck you?” Aaron swelled up with annoyance. 

“No. Too many people. Not enough time. Besides that,” Reid responded in a matter-of-fact tone, “not every person infected with the plague would be compatible with me. My blood enzymes would not be compatible with all blood groups. Those infected would need their own rabbits to ingest the right ingredients. Then the masters and mistresses would need to give suck from their rabbits. Please stop seething.” 

“I wasn’t aware I was seething,” Aaron lied. “How could you be sure this hare-brained scheme would work?” 

“I wasn’t sure it would.” 

“You tried this on me without knowing for sure?” Aaron swelled up again. 

“I know how horrible that sounds,” Rabbit defended weakly. 

“How many former masters have you killed with your potions?” Aaron dove right for the point, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Rabbit.

“None,” Reid answered, crossing his arms in reply as his own annoyance rose to the top, pushed even further upward by the echoes of Aarons’ emotions running through him too. “If they showed signs of becoming more ill, I stopped. What kind of monster do you think I am?” 

“I could have died!” Aaron growled. 

“Yes, there was a chance,” Reid frowned. Aaron frowned right back, shaking his head at Rabbit, who was biting his bottom lip in worry. 

“You told the Minister that another person in the Virgin Land has been cured. You would not give her a name though. Whom did you mean?” 

“It would be premature to name anyone else a success, until Dr. Blake has been able to test him.” 

“Rabbit, don’t toy me!” Aaron muttered angrily. “You tested this on Baron Rossen too, didn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Rabbit admitted painfully. “While I was in Master Bottler’s workshop, I concocted many horrendous potions in order to distract him from my real purpose for being there, which was to mix my own blood into the baron’s medications.” 

“You mixed your blood into the baron’s medicines?” Aaron felt every hair on the back of his neck stand straight up in fear. “What if you had killed him?!” he demanded.

“That would have caused me much regret. He is a very nice man. But like you, he began to improve.”

“And like me, he began to fall under your sway as well, because he was consuming you, even in small quantities, and without his knowledge,” Aaron finally understood. 

“Yes. I’m afraid so. I must confess, I harbored hopes that if Baron Rossen died, the Lady Guinevere would be blamed. I hope you will forgive me that momentary human weakness.” 

“Rabbit, she would have been hanged, or burned at the stake for witchery!”

“Not undeservedly so,” Rabbit retorted. “She stabbed her own lady-in-waiting through the ribs, and more than likely is the person who stabbed Lord William as well. Not to mention to likelihood that she is responsible for the deaths of her parents and her sister. There’s nothing I wouldn’t put past her.”

“Are you behind her disappearance?” 

Rabbit grinned and laughed softly. “Oh, I wish I were,” he murmured ruefully. “If it were in my power, I would lose her somewhere very dark and deep.” 

“How long until you have to go before this council of yours?” 

“A little over six hours.” 

“What are you going to say?” 

“I do not know.” 

“But your plan, as Morgan said, is to offer to cure the plague in exchange for food for your people?” 

“Yes. In exchange for plants we can replicate ourselves in the proper environment. Although Mary’s Land is devoid of soil which might sustain life, there are other regions in the allied provinces which have remained viable. Someday we might be able to rehabilitate the soil of Mary’s Land. I thought perhaps if I could reproduce the soil in the Lady Eleanor’s Green, then I could make Mary’s Land fertile once more.”

“What if the Baron refuses to agree to the exchange?” 

“I won’t lie to you. If we cannot reach an agreement, it is possible the council will approve using force if that is their only option. I would not approve. I would fight them every step of the way.” 

“Rabbit, if you have found a cure for the plague, the baron would listen to you, especially if he himself has been cured.” 

“I hope he will listen. But before pleading my case with Baron Rossen, I must first convince the council of ministers, and then I must convince the Proctor. He is the one least likely to agree. If I cannot convince him, I must prevent him from stopping me.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“The less I tell you, the better for you.” 

“You don’t trust me?” 

“I trust you beyond measure. I do not wish to endanger you.” 

“What is the Proctor going to do, torture me to make me talk?” Aaron chuckled. Rabbit frowned in reply. “He would torture me?” Aaron gulped. 

“Without compunction. The Proctor is a cold man, emotionless and remote. He doesn’t see his own people as human. He’s not going to see you as anything more than an insect, an animal, a commodity to be exploited.”

“How are you going to get through to him? How are you going to stop him?” Aaron asked, thinking to himself that every time strong emotions boiled up in Rabbit, he himself fought to be just that – emotionless and remote, devoid of feelings. Was Rabbit imitating the Proctor when he went cold that way?

“By giving him everything he thinks he wants,” Rabbit whispered.


	41. Escort Service

Part Nine - Den of Jackals

Chapter 41 -- Escort Service

 

A set of chimes dinged somewhere above Aaron. He jumped awake, unaware when he had fallen asleep. Rabbit was beside him, nestled against his chest. They were lying together on a long, thin piece of furniture which faced the window and the clouds outside. Aaron thought they might have fallen asleep mid-conversation a few hours ago. Rays of light were beginning to penetrate the clouds. Was it morning yet? This had literally been the longest night of Aaron’s life. He was ready for it to be over. 

The chimes dinged again. Rabbit was rising up, slowly rotating one shoulder. He motioned for Aaron to stay seated, and walked quietly for the front portal. Aaron turned around and watched, his sense of danger prickling up. 

Rabbit touched a small, white square on the wall by the portal. It showed a moving picture of the people waiting outside the closed door. A woman in dark blue uniform stood there, flanked by two more uniformed men. The woman was of medium height, had shoulder-length, reddish-brown hair, and brown eyes. Reid tilted his head. Was he surprised to see her? Rabbit motioned once again for Aaron to stay where he was, then touched a button below the small screen. 

The portal doors hissed opened. The woman dodged back in surprise. The men behind her both put their backs to the wall of the hallway, and gaped openly at Rabbit. Aaron touched his translator disc to wake up the enchanted fairy inside. He had a feeling this might be an interesting conversation. 

“Reid,” the woman bowed her head to Rabbit.

“Greenaway,” Rabbit replied hoarsely, bowing his head as well. 

“The rumors are true? You are alive?” the woman observed. The men behind her didn’t say a thing. If they could have backed up further, they would have. They darted nervous looks back and forth to each other. 

“It would seem so,” Rabbit observed wryly. “Do you not believe your own eyes?”

“You could be an illusion. An elaborate trick of the mind. Or a man whose face has been rebuilt to resemble Dr. Spencer Reid,” Greenaway injected, her eyes narrowing dubiously. 

“You should test me to make sure I am who I appear to be,” Rabbit insisted. 

“May we come in?” 

“Yes, you should,” Reid agreed. Greenaway glanced over her shoulder at the young guards behind her. They both shook their heads no. They preferred to remain in the hallway. Why were they so spooked?

“Alert me if you see anyone,” Greenaway commanded, stepping inside and letting the doors close behind her. 

The moment the doors closed, Greenaway’s comportment changed. She took a rod with a handle from her side and pointed it at Reid. What was that thing? Morgan’s guards had had them too, and they had pointed them at Aaron. Was it a weapon of some kind? Aaron rose up off of the piece of furniture, and moved forward to protect Rabbit. 

“The Proctor warned us that you have been brain-washed by the natives. Tortured. Been made to do unspeakable things.”

“Have I?” Rabbit asked, remaining perfectly calm. She darted her head forward, examining him with eyes wide and mouth gawping. 

“Where did we first meet?” Greenaway demanded, brandishing the weapon at both of them now. 

“We were cadets. The Proctor hand-selected us from our maturation pods, because he saw promise in us.” 

“You sound like a recruitment poster. Be more specific,” Greenaway hissed. Aaron stood next to Rabbit, and put a hand on his waist. 

“Who are you? What is the meaning of this?” the shire reeve demanded. Greenaway shook her head in disapproval. 

“You brought a native back with you? You’ve broken the first rule and the second rule? The Proctor will not be pleased with you,” Greenaway warned. 

“You were assigned to security. I was assigned to the sciences. Our initial task together was at Berkeley Springs. Your job was to follow and protect me out in the wild. The Proctor decided that because I was small and not well-equipped to defend myself, that I should have a guard at all times. My job was to ascertain the levels of contaminants in the air and water of the location,” Rabbit continued calmly. 

“Go on,” Greenaway menaced. 

“When my visual assessment did not agree with the readings the instruments were giving me, I removed my helmet to take a live sample. You punched me in the face, pushed my helmet back on, threw me over your shoulder, and dragged me back to base,” Reid concluded. “You reported me to the Proctor for disobeying the order against removing our gear at any time. You were given a commendation for bravery. I was given a week of penance in solitary confinement for disobeying orders.” 

Greenaway began to grin. It was like a light breaking through the clouds, tentative at first, and then eventually radiant. She lowered her weapon and put it away at her side. Her dark brown eyes filled with joy. She threw her arms around Rabbit’s neck and squeezed him tight. Then just as abruptly, she let go, took a swipe at his cheek, and tempered her feelings with appropriate comportment. 

“Reid, you stupid son of a bitch!” she growled, reaching forward to pat him on the shoulder, and then take another playful swipe at his face. 

“Thank you for your concern, Greenaway.”

“Son of a bitch, they tattooed you?!” she gasped, running a hand over his right shoulder and looking truly appalled. “I can’t believe you survived! You don’t know how many times I begged the Proctor to be able to take my own search party into Virginia to find you.”

“I imagine you were very persistent.” 

“After what you did for me in El Paso, I wasn’t going to leave you behind. You saved my life more than once. If you were alive, I was going to find you. If you were dead, I was going to find you,” Greenaway insisted.

“And what was the Proctor’s response to your insistence?” 

“He reassigned me to protect the Minister from Canaveral, for my own good. He told me I needed emotional distance.” 

“I fail to understand how assigning you to protect my mother would have given you distance.” 

“I thought it was an odd remedy too,” she confessed. 

“How long have you worked for the Minister?” 

“Eighteen of the longest months of my life. Your mother is even more of a pompous ass than you are,” Greenaway laughed. 

“Her personality does not agree with you?” 

“She reminds me daily about her high IQ and her genetic superiority.”

“When have I ever told you I am genetically-superior?” Reid wondered defensively. “I am sorry the Minister has been unpleasant to you. How has the task suited you otherwise?” 

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Greenaway mused. “Enough of the small talk. You must know why I’m here.” 

“The Minister has given you instructions to escort me safely to the council meeting.”

“Yes,” Greenaway acknowledged. She waited, as if there was more. There was. 

Rabbit added, “The Proctor has also given you orders to bring me.” 

Greenaway’s face filled with sadness and concern as she nodded hollowly to the second remark. Aaron wasn’t sure he had heard Rabbit correctly. He played the words back in his mind. What had made Greenaway frowned? Why would she receive two commands to bring him to the council? 

“Reid, we’ve been through too much together. I would never lie to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Your honesty is much appreciated,” Reid bowed slightly to her. 

“Yeah? You appreciate my honesty, do you? Let’s start with that hair of yours,” Greenaway frowned again.

“You do not like it?” Reid questioned. 

“No,” Greenaway barked. “It looks terrible.” 

Reid shrugged in response. He didn’t care one way or the other. 

“We should go. Your friends in the hallway will wonder why it’s taking so long,” Reid commented quietly as he lifted his uniform jacket off the back of the piece of furniture and slid his arms into it. 

“Is he coming with us?” Greenaway asked, motioning to Aaron. 

“Yes, he is,” Rabbit replied, buttoning up his uniform top and pushing his loose hair behind one ear. He had lost the band holding it back. Aaron glanced back at the piece of furniture. It was there between the two flat cushions. 

“Where are we going?” Aaron asked. 

“I’m taking you to the council meeting,” Greenaway told him slowly and carefully. 

“Are we your prisoners?” Aaron asked.

“You are my honored guests, and I will protect you to the last,” Greenaway promised. “Where the hell is Morgan?” she asked as an aside to Reid. 

“He will be here as soon as he can be,” Reid replied. 

Greenaway touched the small square below the image of the two guards, and the portal doors opened. The two guards jumped to attention, and Greenaway passed between them, taking the lead. Rabbit fell in step behind her, and Aaron followed behind Rabbit. The two guards exchanged a frightened look, and tentatively followed the shire reeve.


	42. By the Book

42 -- By the Book

 

As their small vessel rose up from the open mouth of Canaveral Base, Greenaway took a jumpseat next to Reid and strapped herself in, crossing the belts of the safety harness over her chest and buckling them tightly. 

“Take care. This could be a bumpy ride,” she noted wryly. Aaron watched Reid give a hint of a smile too. 

“Where will the council convene?” Reid asked. 

“I was not told where,” Greenaway answered. Reid’s eyes went quickly to the soldier piloting the ship, who must have felt his eyes on the back of his head, for he scrunched down slightly in his chair, and turned briefly to give Reid a quick study. 

“Sorry, sir. ‘Need to know’ basis only,” the pilot responded before turning his full attention back onto the monitors and the forward viewport in front of him. His co-pilot didn’t say a word, but kept darting glances between Greenaway and Reid, and now and again at Aaron. The pilot frowned at the co-pilot, and he turned his attention to the monitors as well. 

Aaron put a hand on Rabbit’s arm when the small vessel leapt forward with a blast of acceleration, like a horse too eager to be on its way. The two guards who had accompanied Greenaway were sitting on the other side of the passenger cabin of the vessel, about six feet away, strapped into their own jumpseats. As the ship rose into the cloud cover, it started to bounce and bob on the currents. Aaron gulped loudly and closed his eyes. 

“I prefer my horses with all four feet on the ground,” the shire reeve murmured to Rabbit. Reid leaned his shoulder against Aaron’s shoulder, and moved one thigh against the length of Aaron’s thigh, comforting him with his own form. The shire reeve concentrated on the silken soft tickle of Rabbit’s long locks, the sound of his breathing, the beat of his heart. Rabbit’s feelings were all a-jumble. Aaron wished he could tell by sounding Rabbit’s emotions whether or not he trusted the Greenaway woman, but he could not parse out the feelings so easily. Perhaps Rabbit wasn’t sure about her either. 

“Over soon,” Rabbit whispered. Had he meant to sound so ominous? Aaron shuddered, and got a firmer grip on Reid’s arm. 

The longer the vessel remained in transit, the more worried Aaron became. He wasn’t a great judge of how fast they were moving, because staring forward into the cloudbanks was giving him a terrible sense of vertigo, but considering how fast the journey from Castle Rossengild to Canaveral Base had been, this journey felt over-long to him. 

Rabbit was feeling nervous too. He surreptitiously watched the monitors on the panels the pilot and co-pilot were using to navigate. He strained his chin upwards, eyes moving over the screens. Aaron wondered what kind of information Rabbit was taking in. As Baron Rossen would have said, both Rabbit’s ears were twitching, figuratively speaking. 

“Rough winds in the Carolinas,” Rabbit spoke to Aaron. The shire reeve tried to see the monitors too. As the pilot narrowed the focus of one of the screens, a light went off in Aaron’s brain. Those tiny screens were like movable maps! He could barely make out the coastline under the fuzzy whiteness which was coming from the east. 

“Rough winds?” Aaron asked.

“A large ocean storm?” Rabbit tested, lifting his chin again. 

“We are going around the hurricane,” Greenaway interjected. 

“Hurry…..” Rabbit frowned. 

“Hurricane. A small F1. It’s hardly above tropical storm stage. Winds speeds do vary. ‘Tis but a miniscule tempest, my lord,” Greenaway murmured to Aaron, giving him a faint smile.

“You speak my language?” Aaron questioned. 

“A smattering,” Greenaway replied. “I believe in being prepared.”

“Have you been to the Virgin Land? From whom did you learn?” Aaron wondered. 

Greenaway’s features clouded with concern. She didn’t want to answer the question, and Aaron intuitively understood why. She must have learned from one of his people who had been taken prisoner. For a moment, he had started to trust her, and feel kindness towards her, but that fragile truce was broken now by the knowledge that she had held one of his people captive against their will, moreover, that she had used that term of imprisonment to learn his language as a means by which to defeat his people. He frowned at Greenaway. She tucked her head down as her face colored with shame. 

“Both stop,” Rabbit ordered without malice. He was watching the guards across from them grow more and more nervous. Aaron cleared his throat, and Greenaway spoke to the two young men. 

“I was explaining to him that we are going around the hurricane,” Greenaway said, clutching her safety harness tight and tossing her chin towards the front of the cabin. The two guards watched the pilot and co-pilot handling the vessel, and nodded to each other. There it was, for a fraction of a second, an understanding that passed between the two guards, the pilot, and the co-pilot. Aaron didn’t like this. Not one bit. He had to wonder if they were actually being escorted to the council at all, or if Greenaway’s orders had been to abduct and silence Reid and him. 

Aaron kept a grip on Rabbit’s forearm, riding over the bumps and bobs of turbulence. If bad turned to worse, what would Aaron be able to do to defend Rabbit? Hand-to-hand combat was not out of the question, but he was almost twice the age of these soldiers. He didn’t have his sword. He couldn’t remember if he had had it on his side when he and Rabbit had left his quarters to go retrieve the letter off the rooftop below. Aaron had his dagger tucked into his left boot. Although he was not happy to be wearing the strange clothes that Morgan had loaned him, at least the boots were tall enough to conceal a weapon down inside. 

The Greenaway woman had made noises about being loyal to Rabbit, but that didn’t amount to much more than a pretty speech if her orders were to divert him from the council meeting and to deliver him to the Proctor. These two guards were not going to be much trouble – they were barely out of their teens, and nervous besides that. A good, firm tongue-lashing would probably make them wet their pants. The pilot and co-pilot – now they might be a problem, Aaron decided. Taking a good look at them, he decided they were not merely airship pilots, not with physiques like that. Much like the Lady Julia’s muscle-bound companions, these men were barely keeping their biceps and shoulders in their uniforms. People were people the world around. Those who worked in security tended to be large, muscular, and menacing. So were the pilot and co-pilot guards as well? They had to be, he knew, glancing again at the young men sitting across the small vessel. No one in their right mind would send these two young pups to manage a dangerous fugitive and a wild native. The pilot and co-pilot were reinforcements in case the two younger guards had trouble corralling Rabbit and Aaron. 

Rabbit gave a soft grunt of dismay and closed his eyes as the ship started to shimmy and shake violently. Aaron understood completely. His own empty stomach was roiling in dismay. Once this was all over, once he was back home, he was going to treat himself to a good meal. Breakfast, he planned. Eggs and bacon. Potatoes. Matilda’s baked bread. Strong ale. Oh, that would do nicely. Rabbit tucked his head down, taking deep, measured breaths. Aaron wondered if his breakfast fantasies were somehow upsetting Rabbit’s stomach even more.

“Are you all right?” Greenaway asked, a jovial smirk on her face. “I’ve never known you to get airsick before.” 

Rabbit didn’t reply. He breathed again, more heavily. He loosened his safety harness, undid the belts, and let them raise up. He was bouncing in his seat as they hit another tough patch of turbulence. The guards looked worried. Moreover, the pilot and co-pilot both flinched in surprise, in spite of the fact they had more important things to be concerned about that an airsick passenger. Aaron sat still. He could feel it creeping through him like a chill – danger was in the air. 

Rabbit slid down onto all-fours on the floor, rasping for breath. When he began to dry heave, the co-pilot laughed. Greenaway shifted in her seat and loosened her harness, putting a hand on Rabbit’s arm. Rabbit bumped one of Aaron’s feet with a hand, and glanced quickly at the soldiers seated across the ship from them. A sense of incoming danger rattled the shire reeve’s senses again. 

The vessel jumped, and Reid was on his feet, almost air-borne. He yanked Greenaway’s rod weapon off her side, and got off two shots at the young guards before they could think to respond. When the bright blue shots of light hit them directly in their chests, the young men slumped in their seats. Greenaway bellowed in alarm, and Aaron knew that was his signal. He pushed out of his safety harness and latched onto Greenaway with both arms and both legs, pulling her to the shifting, bumping ground so she could not attack Reid. 

The co-pilot let go of the controls and leapt around, weapon in hand. Rabbit hit the deck, and the co-pilot’s shot struck Greenaway in the back. Aaron fell awkwardly trying to keep the unconscious officer from striking her head on the metal flooring. Rabbit tumbled forward and collided with the co-pilot, and they struggled around on the floor. The pilot was reaching for his weapon, and the ship itself was turning nose-down towards the clouds below. 

Aaron was falling forward whether he wanted to or not. The pilot’s weapon discharged a blue beam which missed Aaron by a fraction of an inch. The co-pilot grunted when Greenaway’s unconscious body rolled over the top of him and Rabbit on the floor. The pilot was aiming another shot at Aaron, but the shire reeve wasn’t going to give him the chance. In two long strides, Aaron had his dagger in his hand, and was in the pilot’s face, nose to nose. 

“Drop the weapon, or I’ll slice your throat,” Aaron hissed. Apparently his words needed no translation. The pilot dropped his weapon and stuck both hands in the air. Aaron kicked the weapon away, but it tumbled to the side instead of up into the back of the vessel. The shire reeve let his eyes drift to the forward view port because he was having trouble maintaining his foothold. They broke through the thick bands of cloud cover. The ground was rushing at them, dangerously close. He bleated in alarm, and the pilot made almost the same sound.

Luckily the tilt of the vessel allowed Rabbit to roll out from under Greenaway and the co-pilot, both of whom tumbled towards the front of the ship. Had the co-pilot struck his head on the ground and knocked himself unconscious? Had he been hit by one of the random stun shots which had been fired? Rabbit fumbled upwards into the co-pilot’s empty seat, and stared around frantically at the dizzying array of monitors and blinking red buttons. Claxons were starting to sound. A voice started speaking from the ceiling. 

“Warning: ship will impact with landmass in thirty seconds. Please correct horizontal positioning.”

Aaron wasn’t sure what that meant, but Rabbit obviously had some idea, judging from how pale his face suddenly turned. His fingers were trembling as he frantically began pushing buttons at random. More alarms started to sound. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” the pilot growled. He dropped his hands, whirled around, and took his seat again. Two buttons later, the ship corrected itself. They were moving forward but not downward. “Genius, my ass!” the pilot added derisively as Rabbit gave him a panicked stare. 

“Impact averted. Ship has stabilized,” the voice above said. Aaron moved forward and put his dagger against the pilot’s throat. 

“You need me, monkey man. Don’t do anything rash,” the man sneered at Aaron. 

“We do need him,” Rabbit agreed. “Take us to the council meeting.” 

“My orders….” 

“New orders,” Aaron rumbled in Rabbit’s tongue.

“Like you are in any position to argue?” the pilot mocked. Aaron sliced downward across the pilot’s bulging bicep. It was a superficial wound at best, but the man bellowed in agony and let go of the controls. The ship stayed upright this time. 

“Can he fly with one hand?” Aaron asked Rabbit.

“I hope so,” Reid managed to speak without cracking a smile. “Take us to the council meeting,” he demanded of the pilot. 

While Aaron guarded the pilot, Rabbit dragged the unconscious co-pilot towards the jumpseat harnesses. It took him a couple tries, but he managed to secure the co-pilot and Greenaway both in seats. He reached far above their seats and tapped controls which could not be manipulated by someone seated below. A red light appeared above their positions. Rabbit moved in lumbering steps across the vessel and pushed the same buttons above the two guards, both of whom were slack and drooling. Aaron thought perhaps Reid was locking them in their safety harnesses. He felt a little bit sorry for the two youngsters. 

All the while, the pilot was groaning, holding his sliced arm, giving Aaron a moody, bitchy stare. Blood was trickling down the man’s sleeve, but not at an alarming rate. It would have stopped with a minimum of medical attention. Aaron stayed behind him, holding the dagger to his throat, watching the tiny maps on the monitors and watching the foothills and dunes far below. The hurricane had made landfall, but its winds and fury had died down somewhat. It was raining hard. Drops pelted the ship without mercy. 

“Where will the council convene?” Rabbit asked the pilot as he returned to the co-pilot’s seat and tucked Greenaway’s weapon into his right boot. 

“I am not at liberty to say,” the pilot pouted. Rabbit looked to Aaron, who menaced the pilot with dark eyes as he raised his dagger in attack position once more. The pilot ducked sideways, lifting his good arm to cover his face. “Boston!” he shouted. “They’re meeting in Boston!”

“Boston,” Rabbit repeated softly. He fumbled under the hard shape at the nose of the cabin, the base where the monitors were mounted. He leaned down in his seat, and fumbled some more. He was looking for something, Aaron knew instinctively. “Computer? How far to Boston at our current speed?” Reid grunted with his head was down.

The voice above answered cheerfully, “Three hours, twenty-seven minutes, Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

Rabbit smiled sideways. A piece of the hard shape popped open to reveal a hidden compartment, like a wooden box with a hidden floor. Aaron backed up in order to peer inside. Rabbit was retrieving a flat tablet exactly like the one that Morgan had taken to Baron Rossen. The young man straightened up in his chair, and used his left boot to close the hidden compartment. 

“Three hours, twenty-seven minutes. More than enough time,” Rabbit purred, leaning back in the co-pilot’s chair and turning on the thin, flat tablet. An exact replica of the monitor bank appeared on the screen. “What is your name, Lieutenant?” he asked a moment later. 

The pilot’s eyes went wide. Rabbit didn’t look up from the tablet. He was busy devouring the words at a rate of speed that made Aaron’s eyes cross. 

“How…you…I…” the pilot babbled. 

“Estimating your age to be twenty-seven years and three months—much older than the guards and slightly older than your co-pilot – and being familiar with the Proctor’s proclivity for advancing the most-obedient brutes through the ranks fastest, I had to assume you have already made lieutenant, and that the successful completion of this task quite possibly would have made you a captain. It was an elementary guess. So, Lieutenant, what is your name?” 

“Macintosh.”

“Very well. Lieutenant Macintosh, you have two choices. You may live, or you may die.” 

“I won’t betray the Proctor.” 

“As you wish. As soon as I am familiar with the ship’s piloting systems, I will kill you. You have approximately fifteen minutes to make your peace.” 

Aaron blinked in surprise at Rabbit’s calm words. Reid’s eyes had not yet raised from the tablet. Screens and displays were racing past. Macintosh gasped for air, watching Rabbit, and keeping one eye on the dagger that Aaron was holding at his throat. 

“Yes?” Rabbit murmured. “You wish to say something more, Lieutenant Macintosh? You do not wish to end your life honorably?” 

“I won’t betray the Proctor.” 

“Of course not. I would never ask you to betray the Proctor, nor to do that which disagrees with your vow of obedience. You wish to remain loyal to the Proctor to your last breath. I appreciate the sentiment and admire your courage in the face of adversity. As per your request, I will kill you.”

“I was following his orders. He said to bring you and the native to Raleigh.” 

“I understand,” Rabbit murmured soothingly. The screens which bounced past on the tablet were showing parts of the ship’s underside, then the outside hull, then the engine compartments. Aaron wondered how Rabbit could possibly be reading those screens at that rate of speed!

“We were directed to fly through the turbulent weather. The native was to be knocked unconscious.”

“The native has a name. He is Aaron Hotchner, Shire Reeve of Quantico, Virginia,” Rabbit corrected quietly.

“We were told to knock the….. Hotchner out, and to subdue you, and to bring you to the Proctor, so that he could question you to determine how much damage had been done during your time with the natives. He said the natives may have tortured you, turned you against your own people, and turned you against him.”

“Mmmm hmmm,” Rabbit hummed. “Well, if there’s anyone who would be familiar with the lasting effects of torture….” 

The screens on the tablet were slowing down. The pilot glanced worriedly at the tablet, at the monitor banks, at the man in his co-pilot’s seat. Behind them, someone in a safety harness was waking up. Rabbit tilted his head and listened without turning around. Greenaway was muttering to herself, and Aaron was just close enough to her for his enchanted fairy translator to awaken. The fairy began to use language that would have shocked the most-seasoned, malevolent ogre. 

“It’s nothing personal, Dr. Reid,” Macintosh insisted. 

“It never is,” Rabbit retorted dryly and not without a hint of humor.

“They did torture you, didn’t they? You aren’t yourself. I can see it in your face, in your eyes. You look frantic. Haunted. The Proctor was right. You would never have done this before. I read the reports from your previous assignments. I wanted to know who I would be dealing with.”

“You are right. I never would have disobeyed the Proctor before,” Reid agreed.

“It’s not too late, you know? You would be invaluable to him with all you’ve learned in your time in Virginia. He will take you back with open arms. There’s no need to kill me, or anyone else,” Macintosh murmured. “I will not betray the Proctor, but I will offer no resistance.” 

“You might offer no resistance, but you are not above a few mind games in the interim. Keep them talking. Assure them you are no danger. Sound their depths to learn their motives. You are a very efficient and reliable soldier, Lieutenant. I am sure you will go far with Proctor Gideon.”

“We’re on the same side, Dr. Reid.” 

“No, I do not believe that we are, Lieutenant Macintosh. Please speak no more. Computer, estimated time of arrival at Boston Harbor?” Reid asked. The voice overhead answered.

“At current speed, ETA at Boston Harbor will be 9:45 a.m., Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

“At least we won’t be late. That will please the Minister. Thank you,” Rabbit replied. He turned off the tablet, and bumped the hidden compartment with his foot. He shoved the tablet back inside, and bumped it closed again. “Computer, request permission to recalibrate ship’s sensors and reprogram computer for an alternate crew.” 

“Dr. Reid, there’s no need to kill anyone,” Macintosh said again. “If you release the others, you may take me as your hostage.” 

Reid’s eyes narrowed with suspicion even as he managed an amiable smile.

“ ‘If you are not able to persuade the subject to surrender and return with you, as a last resort, you should agree to accompany the subject wherever he wishes to go. An eye on the inside is far more valuable than a dead combatant.’ My compliments, Lieutenant. You are simply the model of efficiency and obedience. It’s no wonder the Proctor assigned you to this mission. I am sorry to cause you anxiety. Please relax. There will be no need to sacrifice yourself for the Proctor’s cause. I promise I will not take your life, nor anyone else’s life. But I will not allow you to take my life or my master’s life either. Do we understand each other? If you give me one moment of unease before we reach our destination, I will open the emergency hatch, and shove you out, one by one. Is that clear?” 

“I thought you weren’t going to kill us?!” 

“I will not take your life. You will be alive when you leave the shuttle. Whether or not you die will be decided by the laws of gravity,” Reid answered, his face made all the more frightening by the cold neutrality which ruled his features. 

“You wouldn’t do it,” Macintosh frowned. “The Proctor said you have a squeamish sensitivity when it comes to causing others pain.”

“Do I?” Rabbit questioned. Macintosh sneered. Reid grabbed Aaron’s dagger and made a quick slice across the lieutenant’s meaty thigh. Macintosh yelped and dodged out of reach. “Lieutenant, don’t test me,” he warned. 

Macintosh was making a faint attempt to stem the trickle of blood on his thigh.

“Do you wish to join the others in the jumpseats?” Rabbit asked solemnly, giving Aaron back his dagger.

“Yes,” Macintosh whimpered, holding his wounded leg with the hand of his wounded arm. 

“Master, he will ride there,” Rabbit pointed. “If he makes any sudden moves, you may stab him.”


	43. Proctor Gideon

43 -- Proctor Gideon

 

“You have blood on you,” Reid whispered softly as he and Aaron strode down the long corridor which shown brightly in the sunlight which poured in from the top. The shire reeve winced against the brightness, glancing down to see where Rabbit was rubbing a fingertip against his uniform side. 

“Sorry,” Aaron replied.

“All the better,” Rabbit beamed at him for a moment, then took his shoulders and straightened his uniform top for him. “A few droplets of blood will help to give an appropriate first impression that you are a dangerous man who should not be meddled with.”

“I was thinking the self-same thing about you,” the shire reeve responded. 

“I apologize if I frightened you. I had to give the impression that I would brook no disagreement. Did I succeed? Was I convincing?” Rabbit wondered.

Aaron cackled nervously, softly, nodding in reply. “Very,” he assured him.

“Again. I apologize. I could not have reined the Lieutenant in with brute force. Psychology was my only option, with the carefully-applied threat of possible violence if he did not obey me.” 

“Where did you learn to be so cold?” Aaron worried. 

Other people walked past Aaron and Rabbit where they had stopped in the middle of the walkway. They were wearing unfamiliar garments, and gaped openly at the two men. Another set of people went by, staring down their noses at Aaron specifically. One of the women pulled her cloak out of reach so it would not brush against him. He felt his face warm with color. Rabbit touched Aaron’s chin with one fingertip and lifted his head, which had tucked itself down against his chest. 

“Pay no mind to their curious stares. You may be the first Virginian they have seen in the flesh. A wise woman once said that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”*1*

“Will the crew be able to escape from the shuttle?” Aaron whispered.

“Greenaway will find a way out, but not too soon.” 

“How can you be so sure?”

“This is not unlike one of the procedural drills that all cadets must pass, being locked in the shuttle and finding a way out in a prescribed amount of time. Greenaway will be familiar with the scenario.”

“She’ll be able to get out soon?” 

“Soon enough. Although I deactivated the communications array, I programmed the locks to spring in three hours. They will be able to get out,” Rabbit promised. “Be on your guard.”

“Why?” Aaron asked. He followed Rabbit as the young man began to traverse the walkway again. 

At the crossroads of several corridors there was a large, circular intersection with plants and decorative tiling, and even a bench or two in the middle. A man in gray had appeared. His deep brown eyes zeroed in on Aaron and Rabbit. For one brief moment, he was clearly shocked to see them. To his eyes, there was no one else present. Other people walked past him, bowing in deference and greeting. He did not acknowledge any of them. He actually brushed one or two aside in annoyance. 

From Rabbit’s stiff comportment, and the fact the man they were approaching was flanked by four gray-clad guards carrying boom sticks at the ready, Aaron had to assume this was someone important. Another minister, perhaps? The closer they came, the wider the man’s smile began to grow. He was in his mid-to-late fifties, with receding dark brown hair, a large nose, and a vaguely-round face. His hair was closely-trimmed, with a monastic or military tightness to it. He was clean-shaven and impeccably-tidy. Adding to the monastic aura was the dull gray color of his uniform and cloak. As Rabbit came into reach, the stranger opened his arms, and pulled the young man into his embrace.

“It does my heart so good to see you again, Spencer. I feared we had lost you forever. What a miracle that you have returned! A gift from the gods above!”

“Or from the gods below?” Rabbit murmured softly before he greeted the man. “Proctor Gideon,” Rabbit bowed his head, closed his eyes, and allowed the embrace to slide around him, contain him, and slip away as well, all without raising his arms in either protest or response. 

“What a surprise it is to see you!” the Proctor exclaimed, clapping his hands together and fighting a big smile. 

“I imagine it is,” Reid drawled. 

“You have arrived barely in time.” 

“We were delayed over Raleigh. Turbulent weather,” Rabbit replied. “Did you fly through the same currents?” 

“I did indeed. Your ship’s crew? They are unharmed, I hope?” the Proctor tested carefully. 

“Relatively unharmed,” Reid replied. 

“Good,” the Proctor said uncomfortably as he studied Rabbit, before acknowledging Aaron. “This must be Mr. Hotchner.” 

Although the Proctor smiled, his eyes went black with hatred when they crossed over to Aaron. It was a chilling dichotomy to witness. He extended a hand to Aaron, and the shire reeve had second thoughts about letting the man even touch him. But Aaron accepted the handshake nonetheless. It would have been rude to refuse. The Proctor’s hand was clammy and clingy, like picking up a sticky, dead fish at the water’s edge. 

“Proctor Gideon, this is my master, Aaron Hotchner, Shire Reeve of Quantico, Virginia,” Rabbit explained. 

“I see. Sheriff? Law enforcement? That explains why he is wearing the uniform of the Minister’s security forces. We are much alike then, I suppose?” The Proctor wanted to make light, and struggled very much with the attempt. 

“In a manner of speaking,” Rabbit agreed. “You are both responsible for enforcing the law, maintaining civil order, and punishing those who break the social contract. Yes, I believe you are somewhat alike in those regard.” 

“Your new master, is he?” the Proctor asked. 

“He is,” Rabbit replied with a smile meant only for Aaron. 

“Dr. Reid, have you heard from SSA Derek Morgan? Was his mission to meet with the baron of Quantico successful?” the Proctor teased out the concerned words, and tested Rabbit for a frisson of fear or a hint of unease. Rabbit remained aloof, icy even. The Proctor could not have been more disappointed. Rabbit should have been surprised that the Proctor knew where Morgan had gone. But Reid was well aware that the Proctor had spies everywhere. It stood to reason that there would be at least one, maybe more, among the crew that had escorted Morgan. 

“I am sure that Baron Rossen welcomed him with open arms. Lord David is a good man. You should hope that Morgan will be welcomed. He is, after all, on a mission to sway the Baron to release your security troops,” Rabbit gently reminded. Aaron restrained a smile at the end remark. 

“You would trust your primary guardian in the hands of a violent native who managed to cripple one of the top ships of the fleet with primordial weapons, and now holds thirty of our soldiers at sword-point?” 

“I would,” Rabbit nodded. How interesting that the Proctor was unwilling to mention the role that Captain Spaulding and the Queen Anne had played in bringing down his ship! There was no need to correct him at this juncture, and it was privately amusing to Reid that even at this point, the Proctor was covering the whole truth one tiny white lie at a time. The campaign to rewrite the event had already begun! By this time tomorrow, the ship will have somehow come down on its own accord. By the day after, the ship will have landed, not crashed. By the day beyond, the ship will not have existed at all. 

“Can it really be that you have learned to trust at last?” the Proctor beamed, patting Rabbit on the arm and folding his hand around his elbow. “Let me walk you to the council room. I cannot believe the Minister would let you travel this far without a proper security escort of your own.”

“How thoughtful it was of you to send me an escort of your own,” Rabbit interjected kindly. The Proctor’s smile flinched a tiny bit. 

“I would not want anything to happen to you, my dear boy.” 

Rabbit gave Aaron a sideways look, breaking his icy reserve for one second, and only long enough that the shire reeve could enjoy the humor in his amber eyes. 

The four gray-clad guards ignited their boom sticks and lowered them between the Proctor and Reid, and Aaron. Rabbit stiffened and unlatched the Proctor’s grip on his arm. He reached forward and pushed the boom sticks aside. The guards scattered nervously away from his hands, afraid that he might brush against them. 

“I’m sorry,” the Proctor soothed. “I misunderstood. Will Lord Aaron Hotchner be accompanying us to the council meeting?” 

“I will go nowhere without my master,” Rabbit remarked, pulling Aaron through the gauntlet and tucking close to him. 

“You do not wish to be parted from him? Is it a physical connection, or a spiritual one, or an emotional one?” the Proctor asked. 

“All three.” 

“Have you formed a genuine bond with him?” the Proctor asked.

“Genuine? In what sense?” Rabbit asked, beginning to blush slightly. It was the first sign of a fissure in his façade. The Proctor leaned close to whisper where only Aaron and Rabbit could have heard him. 

“Is he not like the others? Temporary? Disposable? Useful up to the point where you grow bored with his intellectual inferiority, and move on to the next fatherly man who catches your eye?” the Proctor asked, making sure Aaron’s translator caught every pointed word. Again, there was a smile on his face but a frightening blackness in his eyes. 

Even while his angered pride flamed red across his face, Aaron understood on an instinctual level that this was jealousy at its worst. The Proctor was consumed with anger and pain at the idea of Dr. Reid having anyone else in his life other than the Proctor. This man exuded a sense of possession over Rabbit, regardless of how many years had passed since he had held sway over him. The Proctor wanted to lash out at Aaron, but he could not do it physically, not here, not now. The other man didn’t like the idea of having to let go, even if Rabbit had moved on from whatever relationship they had once had. Aaron knew without a doubt that the Proctor was already plotting a way to take Rabbit back again, and to do that the Proctor was quite willing to dispose of Aaron. All the shire reeve knew was that he would do everything he could to keep the Proctor away from Rabbit, either emotionally or physically. 

“What I feel for Aaron is like nothing I have felt before with anyone else. I believe we have bonded for life. We will be together forever, as long as we both shall live,” Rabbit crooned with a tender glance at Aaron. 

The shire reeve was watching the Proctor as Reid spoke those gentle, loving words. A lightning bolt of fury flashed through the blackness in the Proctor’s eyes. Rabbit had chosen those words like weapons, and he had struck his mark with skilled aim. The Proctor was furious, and more than that, he was hurt. 

“How romantic. Til death do you part,” the Proctor rumbled softly as he pulled back out of Rabbit’s personal space. “We should hurry,” he said more loudly so that the guards could hear their exchange again. “It would be rude to keep the ministers waiting. We are merely servants at their beck and call. They are most anxious to hear your tale, Rabbit.” 

The Proctor bowed to one side, and indicated that Rabbit and Aaron should walk in front. The four guards leapt forward, boom sticks alight once again. Aaron was not anxious to step in front of those four with their sticks blazing. If a single touch from one stick could knock a man unconscious, no doubt the touch of four sticks at once could possibly kill. 

A phalanx of people came rushing down the corridor from the other end of the connecting junction. They were all wearing the dark blue of the Minister from Canaveral’s security forces. There were shouts of alarm and greeting both.

“Stand down. This isn’t a war zone,” the Proctor rumbled acidly to his own four guards when they moved to intercept the incoming guards. 

“REID!” Morgan shouted. He was racing down the corridor. He came to a stop next to the group, and bent over, breathing heavy, hands on his knees for a second or two before straightening up again. 

“Impeccable timing, as always,” Rabbit grinned. He crossed through the four blue-clad guards from the Minister’s own security team who had accompanied Morgan. They all turned crisply on their heels and followed him without a word. 

“SSA Morgan,” the Proctor hissed. 

“Proctor Gideon,” Morgan breathed. “I hope we’re not too late?”

“Not at all,” the Proctor confirmed. 

“How did you find my lord baron?” Aaron asked anxiously. Morgan raised up and put on a half-smile. 

“I found your lord baron to be a reasonable man,” the guardian answered. “He was much relieved and even amused by your message. ‘I’ll have what he’s having’. He laughed quite heartily when I relayed your message.” 

“Did he agree to release his hostages?” the Proctor rumbled. 

“By the time I arrived, he had already released them from the dungeon, and was feeding them in the banquet hall,” Morgan reported. 

Aaron felt a chuckle bubble up in his chest.

“Yes, that does sound like my lord baron,” the shire reeve agreed. 

“You brought these hostages back with you?” the Proctor continued.

“I offered to bring anyone back who wished to accompany me,” Morgan replied. 

“And?” the Proctor pressed. 

“Given the choice between roast boar, plated beef, spitted potatoes, fresh bread and you, everyone chose the former,” Morgan reported. “Do not worry, Proctor Gideon. They promised to be along by and by, once the meal is finished. I have arranged for a vessel to ferry them. By the way,” he added, ruffling in his cloak, “I was told to deliver this to you, Sheriff.”

Morgan handed a basket of baked buns to Aaron. The scent of warm cinnamon filled the air. Aaron smiled and almost burst into tears. He offered the basket around, allowing anyone in close proximity to take a bun if they wanted one. The Proctor’s guards stepped back in nervousness and suspicion, though it was clear that many of them were hungry. The Proctor himself declined with a frown of distaste. Following the Proctor’s lead, none of his guards accepted the offering. Aaron picked one up and began to munch noisily. Maybe he needed to convince them the buns weren’t poisoned? Morgan shook his head no and patted his stomach roughly. 

“Thanks but I’m stuffed,” Morgan sighed happily. 

“You should be,” the Proctor hissed under his breath as he brushed past them and hurried along the corridor.


	44. Den of Jackals

44 -- Den of Jackals 

 

“The council recognizes the Minister from Syracuse.” 

“The Minister from Syracuse thanks the Chair. With all due respect, Dr. Reid, this fairy tale you have told us is a lot of information to take in at once. I would like to return to your encounter with the highwaymen that you presumed were soldiers sent to kill you and retrieve your sensor band.”

“Yes?” Rabbit murmured, clearing his throat. His voice was growing hoarse with overuse. 

Aaron didn’t like that Rabbit’s voice sounded rough and gravely. They had been in this over-bright, white and silver room for almost three hours. Although the view outside the windows was interesting and beautiful, sunlight bouncing off the water in the harbor was making Aaron’s eyes ache. Every time one of the ministers addressed Rabbit, Aaron closed his ears to the fairy translator, but opened his eyes to the comportment and carriage of the minister who was speaking. Body language and facial expressions sometimes said more than their words. 

Some were visibly moved, and were sympathetic to his ordeal, while others were openly confrontational, picking apart each and every statement that he made, demanding proof, or asking for clarification. Rabbit was not comfortable, reliving these experiences under cross-examination. He squirmed and shivered, shrank down physically in his chair. 

The Minister from Syracuse was a good example. This was the fourth time he had asked to be recognized. This was also the fourth time he had brought up the topic of the disguised soldiers who had supposedly attacked Dr. Reid. On a personal note, Aaron kept thinking he had seen the Minister before, somewhere. It was gnawing at Aaron’s brain. The shire reeve had obviously never laid eyes on the man in his entire life, and yet, his face was undeniably familiar! 

“How do you know they were sent to kill you?” the Minister from Syracuse asked. Rabbit blinked at him slowly, unsure how to answer. Morgan rose up out of his seat to Reid’s right. 

“….blind or willfully stupid ….” Morgan was muttering as Reid covered the stick in front of him which rose up out of the wooden table and remained at mouth level. Aaron noted that when Rabbit spoke, he aimed his mouth and his words at the stick, and when he did, his voice was amplified in strength, making it able to reach around the vast room. Otherwise, it would not have been possible for everyone assembled here to hear his waning voice. 

“We have been given no proof that they meant to do you harm, other than your own word that they attacked you,” the Minister from Syracuse continued. 

“What manner of proof would satisfy you, Minister?” Reid asked quietly. 

“Footage from the ship’s cameras?”

“Not possible,” Reid refused. 

“Why not?” the Minister demanded. 

“If I may interject?” another minister called out. 

“The council recognizes the Minister from Detroit,” the Chair replied.

“Thank you, sir. I would like to interject that footage is not available from the ship which was sent to collect Dr. Reid.” 

“How are you privy to this information, Madam Minister?” the Minister from Syracuse sneered.

“Our province is blessed to be the manufacturing point for most ships in the fleet. We track technical data from ships, in order to improve performance and reliability.”

“What’s your point, Madam Minister?” the Chair asked patiently. 

“The ship in question, the Pontiac? It was destroyed in a crash shortly after leaving the extraction time and place when Dr. Reid would have been evacuated from his primary, three-month mission.”

“How do you know this?” the Chair asked. He wanted to know so it would be recorded on the official record. 

“When a ship is decommissioned or destroyed, the tracking sensors cease to relay performance information to us. The Pontiac went down over Mary’s Land. The crash was attributed to mechanical failure. There is no camera footage available from the failed extraction to which Dr. Reid is referring, and therefore, he cannot offer it as proof,” the Minister from Detroit concluded. 

“Thank you, Madam Minister,” the Chair said with a polite nod to her. 

“How convenient,” the Minister from Syracuse muttered. 

“Is there no other proof that I can offer, Mister Minister?” Dr. Reid asked.

“I don’t see how you could possibly convince me this ever happened,” the Minister from Syracuse sneered. 

“Indeed?” Reid asked. “Then why do you keep returning to this incident, and demanding more evidence, though you will believe nothing that I am saying?” 

“It seems to me that the longer you remained in Virginia, the more paranoid and frightened you became, not of the natives, but of your own people. I cannot help but wonder what caused you to fear us.” 

Reid unhitched the collar of his uniform, and popped open the entire top down to his waist. When the uniform top was opened completely, he pulled it calmly off. There were gasps from the collected ministers and guards alike. The two recent scars where Dr. Blake had removed the sensor band were visible, but it was the slender white scar that drew their attention. Reid traced it with his fingertips, and stared at the Minister from Syracuse. 

“I do not fear my own people without just cause, Minister,” Reid murmured. 

Aaron glanced for a moment to the Minister from Canaveral Base. She was covering her mouth with her hand, and blinking back tears. Her eyes were not taking in just the scars across Reid’s throat. She was located up behind the tier of seats where Reid was positioned. His back and shoulders were visible through his almost-transparent white undershirt. She was seeing the whip marks and other scars, and her heart was aching with maternal protectiveness. She touched her hand to her own right shoulder, and bowed her head. 

“Has a medical professional studied this scar to determine its age or depth, or to determine the likely instrument which caused the initial wound?” the Minister from Syracuse muttered. “How do we know you didn’t injure yourself to make it look like you had been attacked?” 

“How dare you?!” the Minister from Canaveral Base howled out before the person to her left, one of her aides, put a tender hand on her arm. 

“The Minister from Syracuse will withdraw from the floor if he has nothing further to add to this inquiry beyond a demand for proof which cannot be offered, and beyond slander which will not be tolerated,” the Chair interjected.

“The Minister from Syracuse withdraws the last remark, and apologizes if slander was mistakenly perceived.” 

“The last remark will be struck from the record,” the Chair ordered, directing his gaze at the woman seated below his place, who was typing frantically, eyes blazing with interest and eagerness. 

“No,” Rabbit interjected. “I wish for the remark to remain in the record, please.”

“Why would you wish this, Dr. Reid?” the Chair asked. 

“How can I address such concerns if they are not on the record?” 

“Does Dr. Reid wish to be recognized in order to address the concerns voiced by the Minister from Syracuse?” the Chair asked. 

“Yes, please,” Reid answered hoarsely. 

“The council recognizes Dr. Spencer Reid. You may proceed.”

Rabbit cleared his throat, and touched the small tablet on the table in front of him. The monitors around the room went blank, and then refocused on the information which was racing past at a rate of speed which no one else could have interpreted. Aaron watched Rabbit’s mournful eyes as they took in the information. His face fought to remain neutral as days, weeks, months flew past. Aaron realized even without being able to read the language that there was a large size group of letters, then a number, then a small paragraph of information below. Each page was an entry, separately divided. It seemed a logical conclusion that this was a calendar of days. What was Rabbit looking for? 

The screens slowed down to a manageable rate of speed, moving backwards through time, slower and slower still. There were gasps again from around the vast room. Morgan was rising up from his chair again, and the slower the screens moved, the more the words became visible. Aaron wished with all he was worth that he could read what was moving past. Why were there such shocked reactions? The Minister from Canaveral Base had turned away from the table. Her shoulders were shaking. Reid put a hand on Morgan’s arm when his guardian turned and directed a look at Proctor Gideon which would have bruised if it had been a touch. 

“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” Morgan threatened. Reid hushed him gently again. 

“July 17, 2200 hours,” Reid said finally to the council. The screen came into focus and stopped moving. “Please note in the record that this is the date and time for my pre-arranged extraction from the Virgin Land after my initial, three-month, primary mission.” 

“It will be so recorded in the proceedings. Please do clarify for the council what we are viewing?” the Chair requested. 

“This is the data from the sensor band, divided by year, month, week, and day, listing each sample that I came into contact with” Reid answered. 

“I would like to interject for a moment, if I may?” Proctor Gideon spoke up. All eyes turned in his direction. 

“The council recognizes Proctor Gideon. Sir, you may proceed,” the Chair said.

“I would like to request that Dr. Reid would be please state for the record where the information we are viewing was obtained. It would support the authenticity of the data if we were to know the source.” 

“Would Dr. Reid please answer Proctor Gideon’s question?” the Chair asked. 

“The information you are seeing was provided by Dr. Alex Blake. She is the one who removed the sensor band from my throat, and downloaded all the data contained therein,” Reid replied. 

“Proctor Gideon? Does this satisfy you?” the Chair asked. 

“Yes, it does. Thank you kindly. I relinquish the floor back to Dr. Reid, so that he may continue.”

As he withdrew from the stick in front of him, the Proctor beamed benevolently at Reid. Aaron watched Rabbit shiver for a second before he could return to his train of thought. The shire reeve knew what was troubling Rabbit. Reid was second-guessing whether or not he should have revealed that Dr. Blake was the one who had removed the sensor band. To be where she had been, she had to have thrown in her lot with the resistance movement. Had Reid put Blake in danger by revealing where she had fled to, and to whom she had fled? How long before the campaign to discredit Dr. Blake began?

“The sensor band in my throat recorded any and every animal, vegetable, and mineral which entered my mouth,” Reid murmured. The Minister from Canaveral was struggling not to sob again. Rabbit paused, and glanced up at her, not in anger, but in gentle sorrow. Aaron wondered at the choice of words, but was not sure what to make of it. 

“How do we know this data hasn’t been tampered with?” the Minister from Syracuse called out. 

“Proctor Gideon, is it possible for someone to tamper with the data from the sensor band?” the Chair asked. 

“I would never discount the impossible, because Dr. Reid is a very clever man. However in this case, it is highly-unlikely. The sensors were designed to record their data as they collected it, storing the information in unrewriteable files. One can add files to the storage collection unit, but the files that have already been stored were designed to be tamper-proof,” the Proctor supplied. 

“It will be so noted in the official record that the data must be correct and unbiased. The data is tamper-proof, based on the mechanical specifications provided by Proctor Gideon. Please continue,” the Chair said. 

“Does Dr. Reid have a point, flashing these intimate details at us? Does he hope to provoke sympathy or sorrow or anger?” the Minister from Syracuse called out. “Does he expect to reach a point soon?” 

“He does, and he will,” Reid muttered softly. “The blade which entered my throat came into contact with the sensor band. It was therefore sampled and analyzed. You see the results before you, the chemical and material analysis of the metal which formed the blade, and the components that were present on the blade when it entered my throat and came into contact with the sensor band.” 

The Minister from Canaveral Base was breathing heavily. She looked visibly shaken. 

“Being a layman and not a scientist, would it be possible to have a neutral interpretation of the data currently visible on screen?” one of the other ministers asked. Several nodded in agreement. 

“The Chair will recognize the Minister from Savannah. I believe you are a metallurgist, are you not? You would be able to interpret this data for us with very little difficulty.” 

The Minister from Savannah was taken aback. He rose from his chair, cleared his throat, and slid a pair of spectacles onto his nose. 

“My metallurgy talents were used to design light-weight, durable metal alloys for ship hulls, making them more buoyant, requiring less fuel to travel further distances. I did not make weapons,” the Minister from Savannah clarified. 

“So noted, sir,” the Chair nodded in reply. 

“The blade which punctured Dr. Reid’s throat and came into contact with the sensor band was a composite of refined steel and other alloyed components which reinforce the strength and durability of the blade, making it far more likely to resist breakage under duress.”

“In plain speak?” the Chair requested gently. 

“This blade was designed to bend instead of break. It is not the kind of blade a highwaymen native to the Virgin Land would carry.”

“How do you know this?”

“It is constructed of materials available outside of Virginia. Besides that, they do not have the practical knowledge of the advanced metal alloys which would have been necessary to produce such a dagger. If I am not mistaken, their metal working skills are medieval at best. They employ blacksmiths who flattened molten metal ores into the weapon shapes. These shapes are sharpened against a whetstone until they achieve the correct edge, either for thrust weapons like a dagger, slicing weapons like a sword, or a hacking weapon such as an axe or a halberd. The blades are then attached to a pommel or a lance with animal and plant fibers, rustic materials indeed.”

“This blade could not have been a native’s blade?” the Chair asked. 

“No, impossible,” the Minister from Savannah chuckled. 

“The men who attacked Dr. Reid were robbers. Thieves. Villains,” the Minister from Syracuse called out. “They surely stole this blade from one of our teams on the inside, and then used it on Dr. Reid.” 

“The council recognizes the Minister from Syracuse’s remark. But the Minister from Syracuse will consider himself warned that if he speaks out of turn again, he will be removed from the council meeting,” the Chair grumbled. 

“Understood,” the Minister from Syracuse muttered.

“Could the blade have been stolen, and then reused by the natives?” the Chair asked the Minister from Savannah. 

“Of course it is possible that the weapon could have been stolen or found, and then reused against Dr. Reid. But this is not a probable scenario, given the rest of the information listed on this page.” The Minister from Savannah was shaking his head and chuckling. 

“The Minister will please explain his amusement,” the Chair requested. 

“Do you see the list to the right?”

“It is rather a short list,” the Chair replied. From Aaron’s point of view, even being unable to read the language, it was easy to see there were only four items.

“That is a breakdown of substances on the edge of the blade, a chemical analysis of everything the blade touched before touching Dr. Reid’s throat. The molecules on the blade were carried into the wound and against the sensor band.”

“Can you translate what we are reading?” the Chair asked. 

“The blade was quite new. Never used before this incident took place, if I am any judge.”

“How would you know?” the Minister from Syracuse mocked. “It could have been lying on the forest floor for years.” 

“I vehemently disagree, sir. There are no indications of this blade having come into contact with vegetable matter or rocks and dirt, all of which I would expect to find on the floor of a forest. If it had been used to commit other personal attacks, there would be molecules from those victims on this blade as well. The list includes molecules of the oils used in finishing the blade edge, and traces of the metal scabbard in which the blade was stored.”

“What are the other two items?” 

“Dr. Reid’s own skin cells and DNA, carried in when his skin was punctured, and if I am not mistaken, skin cells from the person who carried and wielded the dagger. Perhaps the soldier tested the sharpness of the blade on his own fingertip before using the weapon on Dr. Reid? Or perhaps while struggling with Dr. Reid, the attacker was wounded by his own weapon?” the Minister from Savannah proposed. 

Aaron watched Proctor Gideon’s face. That amiable smile was started to wilt. All Aaron could wonder at the moment was how close to death Rabbit had come? How had he survived being stabbed in the throat? The only thing that may have saved his life was the fact that the soldiers who attacked him wanted to avoid damaging the sensor band, and must have sliced very gingerly. The man who cut him had not sliced very deep, and Rabbit clearly had learned enough basic medical knowledge to have been able to close his own wound. How long had it taken to heal? His heart ached for what Rabbit must have gone through, the fear that he had felt. 

Reid coughed, cleared his throat, and sat down in his chair. While the ministers began to loudly discuss out of turn what this new bit of information might have meant, Aaron grew more concerned about Rabbit. Morgan gave him a glass of water. Reid thanked him, and took a swallow or two. He licked his mouth and swallowed again. Morgan took back the glass and frowned. He exchanged a look with Aaron while thumbing away the bloody lip-print that Rabbit had left on the drinking vessel. 

“It is absolutely paramount that we should run the data from the skin cell samples through the databases, and see if we can locate a match for the DNA profile. That should give us a definitive answer about who attacked Dr. Reid,” the Chair decided, shouting to be heard. 

“ABSURD!” 

“Technically speaking, such a search would only tell you who handled the weapon before it entered Dr. Reid’s throat. You would have to produce the suspect in question, and see if Dr. Reid recognizes him or her,” the Minister from Savannah suggested. “It is a male, by the DNA profile,” he added quickly. 

“True, and so noted,” the Chair agreed. 

“Ministers, if I may please address the council again?” Proctor Gideon spoke up in the chaotic noise that echoed around the chamber. “Ministers, please. It is very clear we are causing Dr. Reid terrible duress, asking him to relieve the ordeal that he has undergone. May I request…. Ministers, please!” Gideon shouted, his façade slipping for only a moment. “SILENCE!!”

The room fell completely silent. The only sound was Reid coughing again. Morgan petted his back, leaning close. 

“No. I’m all right,” Reid was promising Morgan. 

“Ministers. We should recess for thirty minutes to allow Dr. Reid a chance to compose himself and rest his voice. If that pleases the Chair, naturally,” Proctor Gideon added, barely keeping his contempt under wraps. 

“It pleases the Chair and the council. We will adjourn for one hour to allow Dr. Reid to rest his voice,” the Chair called out, clapping a gavel against the table. 

As the ministers and their respective guards rose up and milled about, either heading for the room exits or heading towards their allies and friends to talk, the noisy chatter rose high in the room once more. Proctor Gideon fought against the tide, working his way towards Rabbit. Morgan and Aaron both stood in front of Reid, and would not let the Proctor get any closer than he already was. 

“Dr. Reid?” Proctor murmured, his resonant voice tender with concern. “You require medical attention.”

“Thankfully, that is not for you to decide,” Reid grunted, his lips scarlet. 

“You need a doctor, immediately. Alex Blake is a linguist. She is not a surgeon. I shudder to think that she cut into your throat and removed that sensor band. There’s no telling what kind of damage she may have caused in the process. I should like for my own doctors to have a look at your wounds. Please, Spencer. I am concerned about you.”

“I’m fine,” Reid answered. 

“Spencer….” The Proctor pleaded. 

“He said no,” Aaron growled, annoyed by the familiar and fatherly tone that the Proctor was taking with Rabbit. Why did he keep calling Rabbit ‘Spencer’? The Minister from Canaveral had called him that too. Dr. Blake had called him that as well. Was ‘Spencer’ Rabbit’s actual, given name?! 

“Protective, aren’t you?” the Proctor mused, now face-to-face with the shire reeve. “Mr. Hotchner. Hotchner. Hotchner? Where have I heard that name before?” 

“There was once a castle and a baron, but they are no more,” Aaron answered. 

“Ah, of course. I knew it was familiar. I mean Dr. Reid no harm, Mr. Hotchner. If you do not trust me alone with him, you are more than welcome to accompany him. I will let you remain at his side, as close as you wish to be.” 

“Bring your doctors here,” Morgan interjected. The Proctor’s face lit up. 

“You see? Now here is a reasonable man. A capital suggestion. If Dr. Reid does not wish to go to the doctors, I will bring the doctors to him,” the Proctor bowed and retreated a couple steps backwards. 

Reid rose up out of his chair, and swayed to one side. Aaron caught his arm and set him back down in his chair, caressing his hair, bending down to kiss the top of his head. 

“I do not need a doctor,” Reid protested. 

“But you do clearly need a doctor, Spencer. Very clearly. Most clearly,” the Proctor replied. 

“No doctors,” Reid whispered to Aaron. 

“Hush,” Aaron whispered back. 

“Fuck you, I will not hush,” Rabbit growled testily. Aaron covered his translator with his hand for a moment, just in case, remembering how the fairy had repeated Greenaway’s salty language on the airship. 

“Hush, Spencer,” Aaron whispered again, his smile widening for a moment. Rabbit’s eyes narrowed dangerously at him.


	45. The Alcove

45 -- The Alcove

 

The Proctor wasn’t gone more than five minutes. Rabbit continued to protest quietly. Aaron listened, and tried to be comforting, but the longer he examined Rabbit’s pale, panicked features, the more his concern grew. Why was Rabbit so frightened? They were in a room filled with people. Surely neither the Proctor nor his doctors would try to harm Reid here, in front of all of these witnesses? It wouldn’t hurt to have a qualified doctor examine Rabbit. Someone with actual medical training? Dr. Blake was a linguist? What was a linguist, anyway? 

“Why don’t you want a doctor?” Aaron whispered to Rabbit. The young man turned off Aaron’s translator to murmur to him. 

“Not about me. He wants cure. Sample of my blood.” 

“Let him have his sample. It won’t do him a bit of good without the raw ingredients, will it?” Aaron reasoned. 

“There is a chamber right outside where Dr. Reid may rest in quiet and solitude,” the Chair offered. 

The Minister from Syracuse was making his way over to the seats where Dr. Reid was surrounded. The Minister was trailing an entourage of his own people. There were also other ministers following in his wake who were hoping for a chance to talk to Reid alone. A literal wave of people was headed in Rabbit’s direction. Maybe retreating to a smaller room would be a good idea after all, Aaron decided. 

Aaron helped Rabbit to his feet and guided him out of the council room. They entered the small alcove not twenty steps outside the meeting chamber. Aaron set Rabbit down on the slender cot against the window. Reid’s eyes glazed with pain and disorientation when his head hit the pillow. It was a nice room with a lovely view of the harbor. Large, ornamental grates to the sides were blowing chilled air onto the cot. There were potted plants on either side of the door. Peaceful music was being piped in from hidden speakers. 

“Master Hotchner, I would like to speak with you in private elsewhere, if I may? If that pleases you not, I do understand, but I should like to ask you questions. Knowing the answers thereof would put my mind at considerable ease,” the Chair directed the awkward request to Aaron, talking towards his translator. 

“I want to interrogate the Virginian as well,” the Minister from Syracuse growled. “I want to know what has become of the soldiers that his baron is holding captive.”

“They have been released from captivity, but have chosen to remain behind,” Morgan answered.

“I wasn’t asking you, Agent Morgan,” the Minister growled. 

“Your concern for the Proctor’s soldiers is duly noted,” the Chair interjected. “I believe certain members of your maturation pod are on assignment in Virginia, are they not? One of your genetic siblings is in that group, in fact?”

“It is true. I am concerned about John. I have not heard from him in many weeks. Did you make a list of the men and women that the savage is holding captive, SSA Morgan? Was John among them?” 

As soon as the name ‘John’ was out of the Minister from Syracuse’s mouth, Aaron’s eyes got wide. He stared hard at the man, and the resemblance became plainly evident. Genetic sibling? Was it actually possible that the Minister from Syracuse and John Grosbeak were brothers?! The shire reeve bit his mouth closed and did his best not to call attention to his realization. He doubted himself the moment he made the connection. It couldn’t be possible. His mind began to jump to other conclusions—some possible, some surely erroneous. 

The Minister from Syracuse was backing the Proctor because they were working together towards a common goal, or at least because one of his siblings worked for the Proctor. The Minister’s sibling was in the Virgin Land on assignment, which meant that the Proctor might have other people working in the village of Quantico as well. Had the Proctor been tracking Rabbit all along? Did he know how close he was getting to finding him? Was that why John the Nose was pimping marked-up rabbits in the village? Was that business simply a front for continuing the search for Dr. Reid? Or was it possible that he could have been there with two different assignments? To find Reid and to pimp around marked-up rabbits. Was the Proctor attempting to test his own theories on how to cure the plague? Or was he sending his people into the Virgin Land with orders to kill people with the plague? What had become of the girls who had been in the company of John Grosbeak? 

Aaron chided himself. He shouldn’t jump to such rash conclusions. He had absolutely no proof that the Minister from Syracuse and John Grosbeak were related in any way, aside from a vague resemblance if you looked at them askance. He had no proof that the Proctor and the Minister were working together, except that they were attacking Reid with equal vehemence. He had no proof that John Grosbeak was working for the Proctor. Well, no. That wasn’t true. The Minister from Syracuse had said plainly that his sibling was in the Virgin Land on assignment. Aaron shook his head and fought back a smile. Frogga Ironeye had been right yet again! She had said that John the Nose was the pawn of a powerful man!

“Again, Mister Minister, the baron is no longer holding anyone hostage. They are his guests, and he is giving them both food and comfort,” Morgan insisted. “I recognized many faces, but your sibling John was not among them.”

“You are certain?” the Minister from Syracuse frowned. “You would know my sibling on sight?” 

“I served with Major Grosbeak when he was stationed at the research facility in Chicago. Yes, I do know him on sight. He has a very memorable face,” Morgan promised, tapping the end of his own nose. 

“Do you make light of my sibling’s features, SSA Morgan?” the Minister from Syracuse frowned even deeper. 

“I do not, sir. But his nose was very hard to forget.” 

“I suppose it is,” the Minister blandly agreed. 

Aaron felt a chill run up his spine. He was certain that his mouth fell open. So it was true! The Minister from Syracuse and John Grosbeak were in fact brothers! Morgan raised a brow at Aaron, did a double-take because of the shire reeve’s facial expression. Morgan continued on, though obviously the agent was curious why Aaron cared at all about the sibling of the Minister from Syracuse.

“I wish to speak with you alone,” the Chair repeated to Aaron as he turned on his own translator. “If that pleases you, Master Sheriff?” 

“It pleases me to stay, to remain with Rabbit,” Aaron replied, directing his words towards the metal disc on the Chair’s chest. Words did not return. He waited for the translation, but it did not come. The Chair tapped the disc. Nothing. Aaron reached over and tapped the Chair’s disc. 

“Technical difficulties,” the Chair mused. 

“Does your fairy slumber? Is she not awake?” the shire reeve wondered. The Chair did his very best not to make light. Others chuckled quietly together at Aaron’s naïveté, except for Rabbit. Dr. Reid continued to watch Aaron watch the Chair’s translator disc, a look of sad pity and love in his eyes. 

“The translators are not controlled by fairies,” Rabbit explained to Aaron. “It is but a piece of jewelry.” 

“How does the piece of jewelry know my language?” Aaron asked. 

“The computer is learning your language with every word you or I speak. There is a small mechanical device inside which hears the words, searches them against known information, and then relays a translation back to you. No fairies,” Rabbit whispered. His amber eyes traced Aaron’s features. “You are disappointed.”

“Would you know a fairy if you saw one?” Aaron asked. 

The shire reeve had not realized that other people were entering the small room until someone put an elbow in his kidneys from behind. It was becoming very crowded! Rabbit leaned against Aaron’s shoulder. 

“I have never seen fairy,” he confirmed. There was an unhealthy rasping in his chest now. 

“It would be easier to tend to my patient if I could get close to him.” 

Aaron whirled on the tiny woman behind him, even while with one eye he watched the Minister from Syracuse retreating. His mind whirled with all he had learned in the last few minutes about John the Nose and the Minister from Syracuse. Now that he knew that John the Nose had been working for the Proctor, Aaron was even more curious to know who had broken his neck and poisoned him, and hung him as well. How was all of this connected together? He felt a pang of guilt twinge through his heart when he noted the genuine concern in the face of the Minister from Syracuse. Should he tell the departing minister that his genetic sibling was dead? Was it wrong to withhold that information? 

The woman in front of the shire reeve cleared her throat, and he gave his attention to her finally. She looked peeved. Perhaps she was not accustomed to being ignored. She was petite and blonde, and had a pretty face. Maybe she thought her beauty should always be acknowledged, because her beauty made her special? Her big, blue eyes traced Aaron with trepidation. She took a step back, giving the Proctor a frightened stare, as if to ask what kind of trouble he had gotten her into. 

“Spencer, do you remember Dr. Archer?” Proctor Gideon asked, giving her a tiny shove in Rabbit’s direction.

The petite blonde batted her lashes innocently as she smiled at Reid. He nodded politely to her and quickly averted his eyes away again. Aaron couldn’t help the annoyance he felt when he saw the bedazzled expression Rabbit was attempting to hide. Oh, but it was there, and Aaron had seen it! Rabbit was fighting back both affection and adoration. On one hand, it amused Aaron to know there was someone who could hypnotize Rabbit as he could do other people. On the other hand though, Aaron was not happy that this woman held sway over Rabbit. The Proctor had obviously not summoned her by accident. 

The doctor was wearing a uniform like Rabbit’s, with five white hares emblazoned across the front. This must mean that she too was a rabbit, and probably a clark, because hadn’t Rabbit said clarks were four and five hares with a talent for sciences? Aaron watched the way the guards and ministers shied back from her while at the same time, their eyes glittered with curiosity and amazement. The shire reeve was willing to bet she was an even-more-potent rabbit that Reid was, the idea of which boggled his already-flailing brain. Beyond their emotional connection, Rabbit was vulnerable to her because she outranked him. Every single nerve in Aaron’s body told him he should not let this woman anywhere near Rabbit. Morgan obviously agreed. 

“No. Not her,” Morgan growled, putting his boom stick between Dr. Archer and Dr. Reid. 

“Agent Morgan, as a doctor, I have taken an oath to do no harm,” Dr. Archer reminded Morgan, moving a hand towards his arm to deliver a reassuring pat. Morgan withdrew in alarm. 

“If you touch me, Dr. Archer, you will draw back a stump,” Morgan growled. She withdrew her hand, giving a tiny smile. She liked that men were afraid of her. She enjoyed the way they stared, and the attention they were giving her. She enjoyed the power that she wielded, not unlike the Lady Guinevere enjoyed the power she held over people as well, Aaron decided. 

“Agent, do you honestly believe Lila means to do harm to Spencer? Why would she? They have been friends for many years. She is the one and only person the Minister has approved to breed with her son. They have a true connection, a bond which supersedes every other one, past or present,” the Proctor rambled. 

“She is a five-hare rabbit who can sway with one touch, and who can hypnotize with one kiss. She is also your clark and your rabbit, and not to mention, your obedient lapdog. No. She will not touch Dr. Reid,” Morgan muttered. 

“What if I promise not to kiss him?” Lila offered archly. Reid was the only one who chuckled. 

“No,” Morgan growled. “You will not touch my clark.”

“This is absurd,” the Proctor replied. “Your clark is sitting there, pale from blood loss, his mouth rimmed in red, leaking his very life away, and you don’t want my doctor to render assistance to him?”

“Lila may to touch me, on the condition that she wears gloves,” Reid interrupted, rasping heavily.

“No,” Morgan and Aaron said as one. 

“Gloves? Do you trust me so little?” Lila clicked her tongue in disapproval. 

“That is my requirement,” Reid replied to her. She dug in her pocket and drew out thin gloves made of stretchy material, which she slid onto her delicate hands. 

“Happy?” she taunted, showing him the sheathed extremities. 

“Safety first,” Rabbit quipped at her. “Morgan, go with Aaron, and help him answer the Chair’s questions. Everyone else will leave the room,” he ordered firmly. 

“No,” Aaron and Morgan answered again in unison. A thin smile traced Rabbit’s face even as he arched one eyebrow at the both of them. 

“Now, please,” Rabbit warned. Whatever challenge had been in Morgan’s face disappeared. He bowed his head and nodded. Aaron was not so quick to fold though. Rabbit gave Aaron an even more direct stare, and the shire reeve decided that perhaps, just perhaps, being alone with the Proctor’s doctor might fall under the category of ‘giving the Proctor whatever he wanted’, which had been the only plan Rabbit had mentioned last night when asked how he would handle the Proctor. Maybe Rabbit’s protestations about not giving up a blood sample were all for show? Was Rabbit hoping to lure the Proctor into a false sense of security? Did he want to be alone with Lila so he could give them a blood sample? Would giving them a sample of his blood prove to the Proctor that it was true, that Rabbit had actually succeeded in finding a cure?

Aaron wasn’t sure this was a good idea. But he reluctantly let the Chair guide him out of the over-crowded alcove, back into the foyer where the Minister from Syracuse and his cronies were milling around muttering among themselves. Morgan followed, but remained close to the open alcove door. 

Dr. Archer opened the pouch at her side, and rummaged around among the small ampules and phials which were housed there. She pulled out a black box the size of her palm, and set it against Reid’s throat. Reid stretched out on the cot. He was so tall that his feet draped over the far end. 

“You must leave as well, Proctor,” Reid whispered when Gideon loomed closer and closer to the cot. The device that Dr. Archer had put against Reid’s throat came alive with three red blinking dots. 

“I would like to remain,” the Proctor pleaded. 

“I would like for you to leave.”

“You should stop talking.”

“You should leave.”

“You’ve gotten very willful during your absence, Dr. Reid,” the Proctor mused with fake benevolence smeared across his face as he stepped backwards towards the door. “You should take care. I know you have been through a terrible ordeal, and I will forgive you many things, but you would do well to remember that I will brook no disobedience.” 

“Please close the portal on your way out,” Reid requested. 

“Spencer, stop talking,” Lila whispered. 

“Close the portal,” Reid ordered sternly. 

“Are you not afraid to be alone with me behind closed doors?” 

“I am not frightened of you in the least,” Reid replied, but he yelped the next second when she touched his arm with one of the instruments she held. Aaron growled, and Morgan snarled. They both leapt towards the alcove in two great steps.

“I was taking a blood sample,” Dr. Archer protested. Aaron kept Morgan from reaching out and snatching her away from Reid. 

“You should have forewarned me,” Rabbit muttered.

“If you hurt him again, I will choke you dead on the spot,” Morgan growled. 

“I don’t doubt you,” Lila trembled. 

“SSA Morgan, you do recall that it is a capital crime to touch a clark to whom you have not taken an oath, don’t you?” the Proctor murmured to Morgan, and not without a smile. 

“It would be worth the price to deprive you of one of your many instruments of evil,” Morgan muttered, baring his teeth. 

“Lila, maybe you’d better close the door for your own protection?” Reid suggested to the petite doctor. 

“Maybe you’d better stop bellowing every time someone pricks you,” Dr. Archer murmured acidly. “Judging from the data collected by your sensor bands, one would think you would be accustomed to a good pricking by now.” 

“How sensitive of you,” Reid remarked calmly.

“I did not hurt you in the least. You called out to draw the attention of your protectors,” Lila drawled with a disapproving glance at Aaron and Morgan both. “Did you wish to test their loyalty or their response time?”

“Close the door,” Reid said sourly.

“I will close the door,” Archer conceded. The portal slid shut. 

“I trust her not, my lord,” Morgan murmured to Aaron as the door closed. 

“Nor I, sir,” Aaron agreed.

“If I might ask my questions of the native?” the Minister from Syracuse pressed forward again into their small group. 

“Ask your questions,” Aaron replied impatiently, fighting with himself to stop picturing the dead body of John the Nose, bundled in his shroud, floating slowly along the current of the Quantico inlet. It didn’t help that Aaron was harboring a growing desire to see this Minister follow in his departed sibling’s footsteps! 

“You did purchase Dr. Reid, Rabbit as you call him, six weeks ago in the village of Quantico?” 

“My squire Karl made the purchase for me, as I was travelling at the time. But yes, Rabbit has been in my company for a little over six weeks.” 

“Do you know where he was before he came to you?” the Proctor asked from the other side. 

“I do not know,” Aaron answered honestly. 

“You did not think to ask?” the Proctor wondered.

“I could ask. He could not answer.”

“Could he not write his responses?” the Proctor mocked. 

“He learned to write my language eventually, but not well. By that point, it did not matter to me where he had been before he came to be with me.” 

“How touching,” the Proctor smirked. 

“We have the data which will tell us where he has been, what things he has sampled during this time,” the Chair reminded the Proctor and the Minister. “With a minimum of effort, we will be able to retrace where Dr. Reid has been, by analyzing the data and tracking his progress through the Virgin Land from his initial point of entry, to the time that he has spent in Lord Hotchner’s possession.” 

“What was his condition when you first met him?” the Minister from Syracuse asked.

“In what sense?” Aaron asked. 

“How did he seem to you? Uneasy? Paranoid? Given to delusions that he was being chased or hunted?” the Proctor asked. 

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he pondered the question. 

“He was frightened, ill at ease, because he had been mistreated prior to coming into my possession,” the shire reeve answered finally.

“Mistreated in what sense?” the Proctor asked, eyes glittering with delight. Aaron felt nauseated. 

“How do you know he had been mistreated?” the Minister from Syracuse wanted to know.

“It was plainly evident,” Aaron replied. His dislike for both of these men was growing by leaps and bounds. 

“Could his injuries have been self-inflicted?” the Proctor asked. Aaron waited for the translation, and frowned.

“I doubt it very seriously.” 

“Dr. Reid has been without his medications for almost two years,” Proctor Gideon remarked as an aside to the Chair, who nodded gravely. “It is possible his anxiety and depression could have caused him to self-harm. It’s not uncommon in people with the same genetic weakness that Dr. Reid has.” 

“I know you are concerned that he has developed the madness that runs in his family, but Dr. Reid has never shown any signs of even needing the medications you were giving him. The Minister from Canaveral insists that Dr. Reid was taking those medications as a precautionary measure, on your recommendation, in an effort to calm your fears, not his own,” the Chair replied. 

“Medications?” Aaron questioned. “Madness?” 

“Lies,” Morgan growled. “Damned lies.” 

“He would not have told you about his condition, of course,” the Proctor sighed. “Yes, Dr. Reid was taking the medications at my behest. He could not admit to himself that he might eventually fall prey to the genetic madness. Spencer is very much in denial on the topic. My concern for him drove me to insist that he take the medications, for his own good.” 

“What are you talking about? What wouldn’t he have told me?” Aaron demanded to know. 

“Schizophrenia. It is a madness that runs in his family. Great caution had to be taken when finding an appropriate mate for his mother, the Minister from Canaveral. But even with such precautions, the genetic predisposition was passed onto her son,” the Chair replied. “Her father went mad before her, and she herself keeps her own madness in check by adhering to a strict regimen of medications which allow her to function almost normally,” the Chair remarked. 

Aaron felt bewilderment creeping in. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Rabbit, but he couldn’t help but wonder what this new development meant. Were these the medications that Rabbit had mentioned briefly last night? 

“It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that Dr. Reid is delusional,” the Minister from Syracuse hissed. Many of his entourage agreed. 

“It would be unwise to jump to such conclusions without proof,” the Proctor interjected. 

Although it surprised Aaron for a moment that the Proctor might appear to be defending and supporting Dr. Reid, he understood the strategy which was being employed. Instead of attacking Rabbit outright, he was going to let Rabbit’s words and actions speak for themselves. The Proctor would be able to guide the others to the conclusions that he wanted them to reach without hardly having to say a word. Even better, if he was seen defending Rabbit, he could eventually seem all the more resigned and shocked and upset when others concluded that Dr. Reid was indeed going mad. 

“When you first met Dr. Reid, did he seem paranoid to you?” the Proctor asked Aaron. “Did he have an exaggerated startle response?” 

“What is a startle response?” Aaron asked, directing his question to Morgan.

“Dr. Reid is not a paranoid schizophrenic,” the guardian replied, eyeing both the Proctor and the Minister from Syracuse with venom. “This isn’t about any genetic weakness Dr. Reid might have. You convinced him to take those medications because it made him easier to control. You wanted to keep him obedient to your commands,” Morgan added, directing his biting remark at the Proctor, who had the nerve to look wounded, even hurt. 

“Morgan, you would defend Dr. Reid to your last breath. I do understand. You would lie for him. You would kill for him. You would turn traitor for him. I understand how protective you are,” the Proctor whispered. “I am protective of him too, in spite of all the laws he has broken, and all the trouble he has caused. Spencer is like a son to me. We both love him in our own fashion. But we need to be honest with Mr. Hotchner. The native could be in mortal danger if Reid relapses.”

“He will not relapse! He has never been schizophrenic. He has never shown any signs of the disease. Reid is not a madman!” Morgan howled. 

“You’re a reasonable man, Mr. Hotchner. We wouldn’t be asking these questions if we weren’t concerned for Dr. Reid. Search your heart. Do you think it’s possible that he has been imagining the things that have happened while he has been with your people?” the Proctor asked. 

“Rabbit didn’t imagine anything. He bears physical proof all over his body of what he has had to endure to survive. Why do you doubt that he has suffered real injuries when you have seen some of the scars with your own eyes?” Aaron demanded angrily. 

“That which doesn’t kill us will make us stronger,” the Proctor replied. “I was referring, sir, to the incident with the Ironeye woman? The charming tale about men being changed into frogs. Can you explain that to me?” 

“He did not imagine that any more than I did,” Aaron laughed.

“Then you could have imagined it as well?” the Proctor seized on the words. 

“The event did happen, as sure as I am standing here before you. I am not deluded, nor I am mad, and neither is Rabbit,” Aaron growled. “My knights were men, then frogs, then men again.” 

“Can you explain what you say you saw?” the Proctor demanded. 

“No. I cannot. But that does not mean it was not real. There are many things we don’t understand but our lack of knowledge does not make them unreal. One thing I don’t understand is why you say you love Rabbit like a son, and yet you were hunting him like a wild animal.” 

“I have been searching for Spencer, in earnest, since the moment he went missing,” the Proctor injected, hands together in a beseeching manner. “He is one of the greatest minds of his generation. You don’t know Dr. Reid the way I know him. You’ve only known him for six weeks! You don’t know anything about him! You used him for his blood and his body, no doubt. His mind is his greatest asset. You know nothing about the boy at all!” 

The Proctor was struggling to maintain his façade of cold neutrality. Fury seeped from his dark eyes into his round face, pulling his features almost flat with tension. 

“Rabbit has cured me of the plague. That is all I need to know about him,” Aaron replied, growing sullen and protective and worried because these questions continued. Morgan was watching them all closely. His dislike for the ministers and for the Proctor was more than evident. This conversation was not passing the sniff test for Morgan. It felt staged. It felt stunted. It felt practiced. Aaron couldn’t help but agree with that assessment. The longer he was around Morgan, the more he was growing to like the agent and guardian.

Had the Proctor spent the entire time since Reid’s first escape from death, plotting how he would discredit his protégé if he managed to survive the Virgin Land and return to his own home? It was very difficult to pin down what the Proctor was up to. On one hand, the Proctor had seemed to have been praying for Reid’s return. Yet he had surely been hoping for Reid’s death as well. Aaron wondered if the Proctor had regretted ordering his troops to kill Reid. When the young man survived that first attempt with the fake highwaymen, the Proctor must have been both annoyed and overjoyed. Aaron imagined that the hope of finding Reid and bringing him back must have obsessed the Proctor night and day after that. The hope of winning back Reid’s admiration and affection must have burned in the Proctor like a kind of madness all its own. 

“Mr. Hotchner, are you sure you’ve been cured? Wouldn’t you like to have someone verify this for you, someone besides a linguist with delusions about her medical abilities, and the man who stands to gain the most if he can convince you you are healed?” the Proctor wondered. 

The Chair nodded in agreement. “Mr. Hotchner, I would want a second opinion. A neutral medical doctor should examine both you and Dr. Reid.” 

“I do not need to be reassured. I know what I can feel, and what I feel is that I am cured,” Aaron insisted. “What is a linguist?” he asked Morgan.

“She is an expert on spoken words in many tongues,” Morgan replied. 

“How long was it before Dr. Reid claimed that he had cured you? A week? A month?” the Chair asked. 

“I don’t understand,” Aaron frowned. 

“Did he give you elixirs to drink?” the Proctor asked. “Did he give you food to consume, or droplets to place under your tongue? Could he have been deluding you? Poisoning you? Controlling you?” 

“I do not understand the means by which he cured me,” Aaron replied. It was a small white lie. Rabbit had explained, but much of what he had said remained nebulous in Aaron’s mind. Rabbit was right about one thing at least! The Proctor was attempting to learn the manner and method of the cure for the plague, and he was also trying to instill fear and distrust in Aaron towards Rabbit. 

“No, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” the Proctor remarked with amusement. Could he not see the wheels turning in Aaron’s mind? 

“He does like to grow plants,” Aaron offered a moment later, as if a thought had struck him. The Proctor and the Chair both nodded in unison and clamped onto that idea. 

“He has always had a talent for growing things,” the Proctor nodded. “Did he feed you these plants?” 

“We did eat together, and often,” Aaron replied. It wasn’t a lie. They had. 

“What did he feed you?” the Proctor asked, his eyes glittering keenly. 

“I am neither a doctor, nor an apothecary, nor a sorcerer, sir.”

“It wasn’t magic that cured you,” the Proctor groaned in distaste and impatience. “It was science.” 

“What Rabbit has done is like magic to me. The kindest and purest magic,” Aaron laughed. 

“Stop calling him ‘Rabbit’! His name is Dr. Spencer Reid. Every time you use that foolish designation, you diminish him, you belittle him, you make him less than he is,” the Proctor growled. 

“You must forgive me, Proctor Gideon, but ‘Rabbit’ is the name by which I have always known him. I do not use it out of malice but out of love. I love him. I love him very much. If you could have seen me before he came to me, you would understand. He has given me back my life and my future. I promise you that he has indeed cured me. I am forever in debt to his great kindness,” Aaron continued. 

“Dr. Reid is descending into madness, and you are doing nothing but helping him along the journey,” the Proctor growled at Aaron. 

“Dr. Reid is not crazy,” Morgan insisted as Aaron broke through the bottleneck that the Proctor, the Chair, and the Minister from Syracuse had managed to put around him. 

“I can’t help but disagree, Agent Morgan. Dr. Reid is showing all the warning signs—mental instability, hallucinations, bouts of violence and striking out against those who seek to help him. We have no choice. We must take appropriate steps. You will forgive me but I must do my job,” the Proctor turned and hissed. “SSA Morgan, it is your duty to protect Dr. Reid, but it is my duty to protect society. It is my duty to protect our people. It is my duty to make sure that those who break the law, and those who would wish to visit violence on our fellow citizens, that they are removed from the general populace. If Dr. Reid is spiraling down into madness, he will need to be placed in a facility where he will receive proper treatment and appropriate medication, for his own good. If I determine that Dr. Reid is not in his right mind, and that he is a danger to himself and to others, then I will confine him.”

Aaron turned towards the door to the alcove as Morgan seethed. Rabbit and Dr. Archer had been in there for quite some time. Several minutes. There were no noises. No signs of movement. It was awfully quiet. Too quiet. No conversation could be heard. Words might have been muffled by the walls and doors, but there should have been some sign of life, some movement, some indication of what was going on. Aaron felt a bristle of fear at the nape of his neck. He had been feeling anxious and uneasy, full of fear and danger, but he had dismissed that as a consequence of being verbally attacked for several minutes by the Proctor and the Minister from Syracuse. Had the Proctor kept the antagonistic conversation going in order to distract Aaron and Morgan, to give his lapdog time to carry out unspoken orders? 

Alarms rang through Aaron’s brain. He slammed his hand against the panel which should have opened the alcove door, but it did not respond. When a second attempt produced no results, Aaron clawed with both hands at the edges of the door, trying to get it to open. Morgan put a hand on Aaron’s arm, drew him back from the door, and touched his live boom stick to the panel.

The door leapt open with a bang which made everyone jump back. Dr. Archer was on her knees on the floor. A violent pink ampule was dangling from her ungloved left hand. A wild struggle had taken place in the alcove, dislodging the covers from the cot and shaking the plants from their places on the tables next to the door. Aaron was suddenly frantic to find Rabbit in the confines of the ten by twelve space. 

The shire reeve and the guardian stepped past the fallen doctor without a second glance. They didn’t care one iota about her condition. Aaron’s brain and heart were racing. WHERE WAS RABBIT?! Dr. Archer was completely alone in the tiny room. The windows were all closed. Outside there was a balcony of sorts with thin wire railings, but there was no sign of distress or disaster—only seagulls and other marine birds fluttering about on the winds. Aaron rushed to the glass itself and peered out. He saw nothing, no sign where Rabbit might have vanished.

“LILA!?” the Proctor shouted, falling on his knees beside the small woman. “Are you hurt? What did he do to you?”

“Where did Rabbit go?” Aaron demanded. Lila struggled to speak. Her eyes were rolling back. She was fading from consciousness. 

“My poor angel,” the Proctor cried as he pulled Lila against his shoulder and stroked her hair. She had been trying to speak, and the Proctor was muffling her words on purpose. 

Aaron strode over impatiently, lifting Dr. Archer up by one shoulder and drawing her to eye level. He wanted to prevent the Proctor from silencing her, and he also wanted to determine if her fainting spell might have been a sham. It was not. The way her eyes were rolling back, it was clear she was not pretending. 

“Where did he go?” Aaron demanded, giving her a strong shake to keep her awake a second or two longer. Lila lifted one arm towards the opened grates, and then collapsed back into the Proctor’s arms.

“Which one?” Aaron wondered. Both large grates were open.

“He didn’t go both ways,” Morgan muttered. 

“Are you so sure?” Aaron replied. “Left,” he called. 

“Right,” Morgan replied. 

Aaron had one leg up into the vent system and was prepared to drop down inside when the Chair pushed his way into the small room. 

“Gentlemen, there is no need for such dramatics,” the Chair sighed.

“Dr. Reid is on the loose again! The fugitive has escaped!” the Minister from Syracuse bellowed in the foyer. 

The Chair looked even more sour with this loud and false pronouncement. He looked flatly embarrassed when the people crowded in the foyer panicked. They screamed and shouted, and began to rush back and forth, struggling with each other to get back into the council chamber, or to hurry for the exits from the building. 

“Computer, please locate Dr. Spencer Reid. Is he in the council facility?” the Chair requested, eyes on the ceiling. 

“Isolating bio-scan for Dr. Spencer Reid,” the voice from above answered cheerfully. “Dr. Spencer Reid is in the council chamber.” 

“Thank you,” the Chair replied, clearly peeved.


	46. The Confrontation

Part Ten - The Proctor's Revenge

Chapter 46 -- The Confrontation

 

When everyone in the alcove returned to the council chamber, Dr. Reid was seated in his chair, and the Minister from Canaveral was standing next to his side. They were flanked by several of the Minister’s blue-clad security forces. Reid was pretending nothing unusual had happened. The Minister, however, was clearly not amused in the least. 

“Keep your distance, if you please,” the Minister murmured coolly when the ensemble approached. Aaron did not stop. A cluster of boom sticks dropped in his path, but the Minister waved him through. Aaron sat down next to Rabbit and took his hand. It was all he could do not to throw both arms around him and pull him close. Rabbit sensed this, and smiled tenderly and innocently at his master.

“Dr. Reid needs immediate medical attention,” the Proctor warned. “He should be quarantined for possible exposure to dangerous diseases, and he needs to be observed for signs of succumbing to schizophrenia.” 

The Minister gave a small smirk. She ran a hand against Rabbit’s wild hair as he slid back into his uniform top. His trousers and undershirt was covered with dust, and a spider web with occupant was trailing from his long hair. Had he slid back to this room through the ductwork?! The Minister scooped up the spider into her palm, and shooed her into a nearby plant on the table. 

“Proctor Gideon, I will determine what care my son requires, thank you kindly.”

“He attacked Dr. Lila Archer when she tried to render aid!” the Minister from Syracuse shouted.

“Did he?” the Minister whispered back. “It might interest you to know that the cameras in the alcove are set to monitor the room. Security records every room in this facility, in case of unforeseen emergencies. Let’s review the surveillance footage from the alcove, shall we?” 

The Minister reached back and touched the tablet. A view of the alcove came up on screen throughout the council chamber. Lila was shown monitoring Reid’s condition with the black box with one hand, while Reid lay back against the cot and closed his eyes. While Reid was unaware, Lila surreptitiously pulled the glove off one of her hands, and drew the violent pink ampule out of her pouch. When she raised her hand and poised to drive the needle home, Rabbit’s eyes popped open. He wriggled out of reach and pushed the ampule against her bare skin instead. He then yanked open the left grate, bounced back over the cot, and slithered down the right vent. 

“Would you like to reconsider your point of view on the topic of who attacked whom?” the Minister from Canaveral wondered. The Minister from Syracuse had the good sense to look embarrassed, but the Proctor remained unmoved. The other ministers in the council chamber were beginning to give the Proctor very different examinations, each one wondering anew about him and his motives. 

“Dr. Reid needs to be checked over by a medical professional who can help him, not left in the hands of an untrained linguist who is at this time a fugitive from justice,” the Proctor replied, attempting to keep the concern on his face. 

“What a curious sense of justice you have, Proctor Gideon,” the Minister from Canaveral observed. 

“Madam Minister, it is my job, it is my duty, it is my pleasure to serve as the one who protects society from danger, and the one who disciplines those who step out of line. I’m sorry if that has come to include your son, but facts are facts, and we cannot ignore the facts. He attacked Lila. He needs to be placed under observation.”

“No. He did not attack Dr. Archer. He defended himself against an attack from Dr. Archer, who was no doubt following your orders to incapacitate him so he could not continue to speak before the council. We must not lie, Proctor Gideon. Above all else, we must not lie,” the Minister from Canaveral chided.

“The council will soon reconvene,” the Chair said. “Do you wish to continue this questioning?”

“Why are we drawing out the inevitable?” the Minister from Syracuse howled. “It’s clear from the unsubstantiated tales that Dr. Reid has relayed, that he is both paranoid and delusional. Witches who can turn men into frogs? The belief that he has managed to cure the Great Plague? He needs to be confined for his own safety, and for ours.”

“Do you believe my son is mad?” the Minister from Canaveral questioned. 

“Yes!” the Minister from Syracuse answered. 

“I have no explanation for the tale about the sorceress and the frogs. But it is simple enough to prove whether or not my son has cured the plague. Why do we not test the sheriff’s medical condition? His data is included in the information provided by Dr. Blake. We can isolate and analyze a complete timeline of Mr. Hotchner’s condition from start to finish,” the Minister from Canaveral suggested. 

“The council will reconvene and vote on this motion,” the Chair offered. He turned and motioned to an aide, who bustled over like lightning. 

“Mr. Hotchner is not a credible witness. He also believes in magic, in witches who can turn men into frogs. He believes in fairies. He is also convinced he has been cured of the plague. Do you really want to rely on the authenticity of such a man as this?” the Proctor growled at her. The Minister from Canaveral straightened up tall, and got right in the Proctor’s face.

“Regardless of what he believes, and how erroneous we might find these implausible suggestions, his blood samples cannot lie to us.”

“They can be misinterpreted,” the Proctor warned. 

“Not in front fifty witnesses, they won’t be,” the Minister chortled. 

“Why are you so sure you can trust this man?” the Proctor wondered. 

“Because Aaron Hotchner has spent six weeks protecting my son from harm. Spencer has been back in our care for less than one day, and he’s already had to persevere against two assassination attempts, both engineered by people in your service, Proctor Gideon. You’ll forgive me if I find it very hard to believe you mean my son well, when your people are the ones who keep trying to kill him!” 

“I’m sure you must be mistaken. Dr. Archer would never have harmed Dr. Reid. She was attempting to administer a tranquilizer which would have calmed him,” the Proctor insisted. “Why do you not speak, Dr. Reid?”

“I told him if he says one more word, I’ll confine him in Canaveral until he’s fifty,” the Minister murmured, giving Reid a sharp look from which he retreated physically. “The ampule Dr. Archer was holding contained a tranquilizer compound, quite true. But it is a tranquilizer to which Spencer has had adverse reactions in the past. If Dr. Archer had managed to inject my son with that ampule, he would have experienced vivid hallucinations and uncontrollable paranoia, which would have bolstered your claims that he was succumbing to schizophrenia. You knew this, of course, because that’s what happened the last time he was accidently injected with that particular compound.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Proctor denied.

“I’m talking about El Paso, Proctor Gideon. My son was serving in your sciences division at the time the incident occurred. He was gathering samples of desert soils with Agent Greenaway. You and Dr. Archer knew exactly what type of poison to use, did you not?” 

“It is not poison. Now you’re being paranoid, Madam Minister. The ampule contained a tranquilizer similar to snake bite venom. As for the incident in El Paso, Dr. Reid was out of the compound without permission, wandering in the desert with Agent Greenaway, and he stupidly stepped on a nest of snakes. Agent Greenaway saved his life by carrying him back to base. If we hadn’t injected him with the snake bite venom, he would have died,” the Proctor snarled.

“So you do remember the incident?!”

“I remember it very well. It wasn’t the first time your son stepped outside the rules to prove himself right. He was told not to go out, but he went out anyway. Agent Greenaway followed him to make sure he didn’t come to harm. Your son has rather a persistent habit of disobeying the rules, truth be told. Agent Greenaway tried to insist that it was her idea to go out into the wilds alone, and that Reid had saved her life by pushing her away from the nest of snakes, but it’s clear she was lying in order to protect him.” 

“Thank you for verifying that you do recall the incident in El Paso. You recall the incident quite well, it would seem,” the Minister from Canaveral smiled. “Shall we reconvene, Chair?” she asked politely. “Don’t want to keep the rest of the ministers waiting, do we?” 

“This isn’t over,” the Proctor growled at the Minister on his way back to his seat. His jovial face was now red with anger. So much for cold neutrality! He was seething as he departed. The Chair was departing in the other direction, headed back to his seat as well. His aide shot out of the council room. Dr. Reid rose up behind the Minister from Canaveral, and tapped her on the shoulder. She faced him, and sighed with relief. 

“Don’t say a word. I am sending for a doctor. You will go with him, and you will let him treat you, and that is the last word which will be spoken on the topic. Do I make myself clear?” the Minister from Canaveral said pointedly to her son. He nodded quickly. She caressed his cheek before withdrawing back to her place. Her personal guards remained stationed around Rabbit and Aaron and Morgan. 

Rabbit opened his mouth, and took a breath. He hadn’t even gotten one syllable out before Aaron clapped a hand over his mouth. Morgan slid a tablet under Reid’s fingertips, but only after making sure it was not connected to the base which would broadcast the contents to the entire room. He was urging his clark to type instead of speak. Rabbit poised his fingers over the tablet, and letters appeared. 

“No fairies in here either,” Morgan read the words for Aaron. The shire reeve snorted softly. “I can sense you are uneasy,” Morgan read. 

“I am,” Aaron replied. 

“The Proctor wanted to drive a wedge between us, hoped to fill your head with lies. He told you I am delusional?” 

“He warned me that you could be dangerous. But I am already quite aware of how dangerous you are,” Aaron added with a small laugh. “Nothing he said makes any difference in how I feel about you,” Aaron whispered, taking one of Rabbit’s hands and kissing his fingers. Reid’s bottom lip trembled, and disappeared. He reluctantly returned both hands to the keyboard.

“I do need a doctor. I can taste blood,” Morgan read, then stopped. He touched Reid’s throat, around the circumference, tenderly prodding him. Reid winced. 

“You are very pale, but I think that is more from fright than anything else,” Aaron soothed.

“When the doctor arrives, I will go alone. You will remain here,” Morgan read as Reid typed. 

“NO,” Aaron protested. 

“The council is ready to reconvene,” the Chair called out commandingly into the stick which amplified his voice. 

“You are not leaving alone with anyone,” Aaron insisted.

“Master, you must remain and answer any questions for the council. Try not to lose your temper,” Reid typed and Morgan read. “Reid, I disagree. He should go with you,” Morgan added as an aside. “You should not go anywhere alone. Besides, they need a sample of his blood too if they are going to run tests to determine if the cure is genuine.”

“Wherever you go, I go,” Aaron insisted firmly.

“Am I outnumbered?” Reid typed. 

Morgan laughed softly, rubbing his shoulder. “Yes, you are.” 

“All rise,” the Chair called out. The security guards behind Dr. Reid’s place parted to each side for a man in a white coat to come through. The Chair pounded his gavel. “Doctor, I trust you can see to Dr. Reid? Determine if he needs to be hospitalized.”

“Yes, sir,” the doctor replied. 

“All rise, please. The council will come to order,” the Chair continued, business as usual once more. 

“Be careful,” Morgan said as Aaron helped Reid to his feet. Rabbit’s knees were wobbly. The man in the white coat supported him from the other side. 

“He is in good hands,” the doctor promised as he guided the way out of the room. Aaron helped to keep Rabbit upright. Were they going back to the same small alcove? 

Morgan touched a nearby terminal, and waited for the view to come up on screen. There seemed to be some kind of interference with the monitor though. The screen was filled with static. Morgan glanced around the council room in the interim while he waited. It was then that he noticed that the Proctor’s chair was empty, and that the gray-clad security guards had never returned. 

One minute. Two minutes. Two minutes and fifteen seconds. The view of the alcove had yet to queue up. Morgan fidgeted in his seat another five seconds before leaping up and sprinting for the door. He was in the foyer in two steps, and to the alcove in one great leap. He tapped the panel, and the doors opened onto nothingness. The disheveled cot and the over-turned plants had not yet been straightened. Morgan’s heart was in his throat now. He whirled around, banked his wrist against his chin, and activated his communications device. 

“Madam Minister. They’re gone,” Derek reported as bravely as he could manage. There was a scream of pain and panic from inside the council room itself. He recognized the Minister from Canaveral’s voice, and felt a rush of sympathy for her. Guilt and shame flooded Morgan’s soul that he could have been so trustful and so stupid at once. 

Seconds later, the doors behind Morgan burst open, but instead of the Minister from Canaveral, the Chair and several of the other ministers from various provinces came rushing out of the room. 

“Send out an alert through all channels,” the Chair was calling out to his aides. “I want all available security from every region zeroing in on Dr. Reid and Proctor Gideon’s bio-scans. We need to locate them at once.” 

People scattered in every direction to fulfill the Chair’s command. 

“I need all forces at our disposal, Agent Morgan,” the Chair directed his words at the guardian, who was taken aback by the request. 

“All forces, sir?” Morgan clarified. “Didn’t you just scramble all forces?” 

“You do not need to carry on your façade in front of me, Agent. I’ve read Proctor Gideon’s report on your extracurricular activities.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” 

“Of course you do,” the Chair murmured. “He’s been having you followed for some time, sending me communiques for weeks, attempting to convince me that you were the de-facto leader of the resistance movement working against him.” 

“I’m not the leader,” Morgan whispered somewhat shyly. 

“Be that as it may, you do have connections there. This is no time to be coy, Agent Morgan. Your resistance connections might have a greater reach than mine, certainly a reach which will not be encumbered by what Proctor Gideon and his minions allow. There is no time to delay. If the Proctor manages to silence Dr. Reid again, all will be lost. If you can contact the resistance movement, please do so. You may fear no reprisals.” 

“As you wish, sir,” Morgan smiled.


	47. Home Again

47 -- Home Again

 

“Are you comfortable, Master Hotchner?” 

A soothing voice worked its way down into Aaron’s brain from somewhere above him. He was lying on a familiar surface – a mattress stuffed with straw. He remembered the doctor in the white coat, and helping Rabbit out into the foyer beyond the council door. Then there had been a quick movement in front of him. He had lifted his head, and an unholy blue light had entered his brain.

There were bits and pieces of memory from the time in between then and now, the duration of his semi-conscious state. Many things he could intuit for himself without being told. He had been dragged. His armpits ached, and the tops of his feet felt bruised, as if he had been pulled across rough ground or for a long distance. His ribs hurt as if he had been kicked by a horse, though more likely, he had been kicked by a man. He had a vague flash of black-booted feet swinging towards him as he curled up in a ball on a cold surface.

Agent Greenaway’s face swam into Aaron’s brain, her cinnamon brown eyes narrowed with hatred and swimming in ill-concealed fear. He was being held upright in a ship which was rocking roughly, as wind soared past him at speeds which tore at his skin. His eyes had opened for no more than a couple seconds before closing again. There was ground below him, moving too quickly to step down, though he could make out trees and grass. The flash of memory had jarred loose a different memory from when the baron had first been taught him how to ride a horse. The Baron had had a pony on a lead, and he had walked it round and round a dirt arena, letting Aaron learn the feel of the beast. But Aaron knew he hadn’t been on a horse. He had been on an airship. The ground below him rushed by far too fast.

“What are you waiting for? Throw him out!” 

“Set us down in the fields. I will take care of him myself.” 

That had been Greenaway’s voice, Aaron was certain. 

“You should not leave the ship alone. Someone should go with you. What if he wakes up and attacks you? Throw him out and be done!”

Was that Lieutenant Macintosh again? 

“I’m not throwing him out! I want the pleasure of slitting his throat myself,” Greenaway hissed. “Put the ship down!” 

Greenaway had hefted Aaron up onto her shoulder, and repeated the command. 

“Set the ship down! That’s an order, Lieutenant. I won’t be five minutes.” 

The next bit of consciousness came when Aaron was already on the ground. Grass tickled his bare back. Bright sunlight was bearing down on him, dazzling his eyes. Greenaway was pulling off his boots. Why was she pulling off his boots? The next second, she was leaning over him, shaking her head. She was taking off his pants as well. What in the hell was going on?!

“Stupid, fat bastard,” she muttered. She lifted his naked arm, and drew a blade across his skin. Blood trickled, but did not jet or splash wildly. It was not a deep wound, but it hurt nonetheless. Aaron winced and faded away again. 

When he opened eyes once more, Greenaway was gone. So was her airship. So were his boots and his clothes. Greenaway had left him naked and bleeding in the field, but she had not slit his throat. How very odd. There were bees buzzing around him, gnats too. The sun was beating down on him mercilessly. He rolled onto one side and groaned in pain. 

“You must lie still,” the voice above continued, tender and kind. It was a woman’s voice, but which woman though? She was familiar. He did know her. Aaron’s eyes slowly opened. There was a cold cloth over his forehead. Blonde hair and brown eyes came into focus along with a plain, matronly face. 

“Where am I?” he wondered. “What happened?” 

“One of my hands found you lying in the fields, Lord Aaron. Do remain still.”

The Lady Julia. Of course. Aaron fought his way into a seated position.

“Where is Rabbit?” he rasped as fear wrapped tight fingers around his heart. The Lady Julia’s face clouded with sorrow.

“He was not with you,” she reported mournfully. 

Aaron pushed her away, and pulled himself to his feet. 

“I have to find Rabbit!” Aaron moaned. 

“Be careful. You have lost some blood,” the Lady Julia cautioned. Aaron held his left arm up to his side and against his chest. The blood from the superficial wound that Greenaway had given him had dried, and the wound itself itched. He had not imagined it. Greenaway had wounded him in order to spill his blood, and she had taken his borrowed uniform as well. 

“What happened?” Aaron asked the Lady Julia. 

“I wish I could tell you, but I have no idea. Were you waylaid by bandits or highwaymen?”

“I have to find Rabbit,” Aaron insisted. 

“I will bandage your arm, and aid you in your search,” the Lady Julia offered. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Aaron deferred politely. 

“My lord, you are in no condition to sally forth on your own.”

“I would rather do this alone.” 

“Master Reeve, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, and I would very much appreciate the chance to redeem myself to you. Sit down, sir. At least allow me to bind your wound.” 

“I do not wish to seem rude, but I must hurry,” Aaron replied as she retrieved a small basin of water, and a roll of thin gauze. “How long do you suppose I was in that field before your man found me?” 

“I cannot say. What hour can you last recall?” the Lady Julia wondered. 

“Near enough to noon to call it so,” the shire reeve decided. “I am not sure,” he added as another vision invaded his brain in a flash – the Proctor’s smiling face leaning down into his own. Aaron shuddered and pulled back. Had that been his own memory, or had that image come from Rabbit? 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“Rabbit is in danger. We have to hurry,” he urged. 

“I have no way of knowing how long you were in the field, but judging from the fact you were in your bare skin, and you do not have a severe sunburn, I would warrant you were not there very long at all. Not even an hour, if I must guess. It is five bells in the afternoon,” she replied as she washed his forearm, then paused to lift his chin and stare into his face. 

“We must not dally long, madam. I do fear for Rabbit’s safety. Why do you stare in my eyes?”

“Has someone fed you belladonna?” she replied. “Your pupils are dilated. Your temperature is slightly elevated. Do you have a burning sensation in the middle of your chest?” 

“A slight one, yes,” Aaron nodded. 

The Lady Julia made quick work of bandaging Aaron’s arm and helping him o stand. She was very polite, attempting to not stare at his nakedness.

“What is the significance of the belladonna?” Aaron asked. 

“I do not know, sir. Wait, not yet. I have clothes which will suit you,” she offered. 

“You must take me at once to my baron.” 

“Yes, of course. That would be the logical place to begin our search, would it not?” she agreed. 

“Thank you for your help, my lady,” the shire reeve added, ashamed for having doubted her. 

“You are most welcome,” she smiled in reply.

* * *

“I feared I would never lay eyes on your again,” Baron Rossen fretted as he pulled Aaron down from the carriage before it had even stopped. The shire reeve held tight to the baron as long as the older man wished, and endured the pounding on his back even though it hurt his bruised ribs. It had been the longest hour of Aaron’s life as they had made their way from Honeybee Leigh to Castle Rossengild. He was unspeakably relieved that the trip was over.

“I am sorry to have worried you, sir,” Aaron replied, sniffling gravely. 

“You must never worry me so ever again!” the baron insisted strongly. One of his knights was helping the Lady Julia down out of her carriage. Baron Rossen bowed to the Lady Julia, and acknowledged her help with several tender kisses on the hand. “Thank you for seeing Lord Aaron home safely. I am in your debt.” 

“You are most welcome, my lord baron,” the Lady Julia blushed brightly. “I must confess, I myself feel more secure now that Lord Aaron is home too.”

“My lord baron, Rabbit is missing! Please tell me he has been found close by?” Aaron pleaded as he gazed around at the changes that had taken place at the castle. There was no man nor woman who walked around unarmed. “The raiders released me. They left me near to the Lady Julia’s home at Honeybee Leigh, curiously so, but with the understanding that I would be found. If they released me, why would they not also release Rabbit?” 

“Baron Rossen, as I told Master Reeve during our journey down here, I cannot think it is coincidence that whoever was holding Lord Aaron chose to leave him where my companion found him. He was in the field which adjoins our closest neighbor. We travel it often during the day. There is a path worn into the tall grasses there,” the Lady Julia interjected. 

“The worn path must have been visible from above. Those raiders wanted Aaron to be found then. That much is certain,” the baron agreed. 

“We have to find Rabbit,” Aaron pleaded again. 

“We will search for him at once,” Lord David promised, whistling and motioning to the guards at the front tower. The tower itself was bristling with enough cannons to sink a small sailing vessel. “Where did you last see him?” the baron asked Aaron. “Where have you been, son? What has happened to you?” 

“I cannot easily explain, except to say that we were in a distant city, in the land outside of our own.”

“In Mary’s Land?” the baron ventured.

“Further away than that. Boston, Rabbit called it,” Aaron insisted. “This has been a dizzying experience, helped none whatsoever by the fact I feel as though my brain has been struck by lightning, and that my body has been mauled by a pack of wild dogs.” 

“He was kicked in the ribs and back, and drugged with belladonna, if I am not mistaken,” the Lady Julia supplied helpfully.

“To what end?” the baron wondered. “Were you not in the company of the Minister who commands Master Morgan?”

“We were tricked, deceived. Rabbit and I were taken by surprise and whisked away,” Aaron mourned. 

“Do you have any idea where Rabbit might have been taken?” the baron pressed. 

“I had hoped he would be here. I thought if he managed to escape, that he would come home to me,” Aaron lamented. As he spoke, his eyes traveled over the castle itself. She was rimmed round with banners flying the baron’s colors, and like the watch tower, the castle towers were all rimmed with cannons anew. Castle Rossengild was a beautiful and welcome sight indeed. 

“Alas, he is not here,” the baron replied, rubbing Aaron’s shoulder comfortingly. 

“Can you sense where he might be? Through the bond between master and rabbit?” the Lady Julia asked. 

Aaron closed his eyes and concentrated. He attempted to open his mind and his senses, to search for some small whisper in the darkness. He was worried all he would see was the Proctor’s leering visage again, but he saw nothing at first. And then, there, if only for a second, through the hollow fear and the dark void, he sensed Rabbit’s presence. 

“I can feel him,” Aaron nodded, touching his chest over his heart. 

“He must be close then,” the Lady Julia reassured him. 

“That’s wonderful! What else can you tell us?” the baron seized on the glimmer of hope. 

Aaron closed his eyes and concentrated harder.

“Machinery,” he replied. “He is surrounded by machinery.” 

“What do you mean, machinery?” the baron wondered. 

“I do not know what the devices are for,” Aaron answered, stepping past the horses attached to the carriage in order to walk into the middle of the cobblestone road. He turned around slowly, and shook his head. Flashes of blue light kept interrupting his thoughts, and with each flash, the connection to Rabbit grew more tenuous. “I can feel Rabbit. He is alone and afraid. He’s in danger! We cannot delay! We must find him!” 

“Aaron, without knowing where we should begin, how can we hope to locate him?” the baron reasoned. 

“Do you have the flat mirror that Master Morgan gave you?” Aaron grasped at the hope with a growing desperation. 

“I have it, yes. He left it with me. He was more concerned with returning the ancient book to his Minister. Apparently paper is very precious to them? Do you know how to awaken the fairy inside that flat mirror? I have tried to no avail.”

“There aren’t any fairies inside,” Aaron sighed, smiling.

“No fairies?” the baron frowned. “How very disappointing.”


	48. The Blue Light

48 -- The Blue Light

 

“You need to open your eyes, my pet.” 

A familiar voice worked its way down into the young man’s disoriented brain. Someone loomed over him, getting nearly nose to nose. It was a middle-aged man in gray, with a round face, with short dark locks, and piercing black eyes. The man might have been attempting a cheerful, welcoming smile, but his very presence sent a chill through the young man’s body. 

The young man fought to orient himself to where he was and what was happening. He was strapped down to a cold, metallic surface. His ankles were latched to the far end of the table, with his legs apart. His hands were manacled on either side of his head. There was a metal band across his chest, and a similar one across his thighs. He could feel the steel against his bare skin. He realized that his clothing had been removed. He was cocooned by cold air and icy metal, but they were nothing compared to the fear that was squeezing his soul. The jovial round face remained above him, but the dark eyes darted away. The man was addressing another person in the room. 

“Have you stabilized his condition?” 

“Yes. He should be fine now. Dr. Blake was actually quite competent in her surgical attempt to remove the sensor band and repair Dr. Reid’s throat. There were rips and tears forming because he was taxing his vocal chords. I have healed the wounds again, but Dr. Reid needs to rest his voice.” 

“How very unfortunate,” the man murmured quietly. The dark eyes returned to the restrained young man. “Spencer, you need to lie quietly. If you give me one moment of trouble, I will turn you over to Agent Greenaway, and let her do with you what she did with your friend Aaron Hotchner. It seems she and her team were not at all happy with the way you mistreated them this morning.” 

Spencer? Was that his name? The young man couldn’t say for certain. He couldn’t stop shivering. The older man above him caressed his cheek, and smiled at him again. Though the touch was mean to be comforting, it was anything but. The young man’s mouth felt numb, and his neck did as well. He went through the motions of swallowing, but could not feel any movement inside his throat. It felt strange when he breathed too. He wondered who Aaron Hotchner was. He knew he should know that name, but when he reached out for the knowing of it all, only blue light greeted him. 

The jovial face disappeared for a moment. An arm reached over the young man. He closed his eyes and turned his head to one side. A hand traced his stomach, and moved down one restrained thigh. 

“Mr. Hotchner was right about one thing. You have been through a terrible ordeal. I shall have to study your sensor band data in greater detail when I have more time. It should prove an interesting read. You certainly whetted my appetite, all the personal information you had up on screen during the council meeting. Very intriguing indeed. Bedtime reading, perhaps. But for now, there are so many things I need to ask you. I confess, I’m not sure where to start.” 

“Proctor Gideon, I would not recommend interrogating Dr. Reid at this point. He is suffering from the effects of being stunned, not to mention being anesthetized for his surgery. He won’t be able to answer your questions. You need to let him rest his voice, and you need to wait until his mind clears,” the doctor said. 

“We do not have the luxury of such mercies.”

“Proctor, if you want to proceed in spite of my precautions, then at least have someone here to record his responses, so you may prove to everyone that he is lying about what he saw in Virginia.” 

“I will record his responses, rest assured,” the Proctor whispered. A hand was caressing the young man’s chest, over his stomach. It moved down between his thighs, and rested against one knee. “Are those bite marks?” the Proctor wondered. A smirk twisted his face. 

“We should not proceed without the presence of official legal council or witnesses,” the doctor insisted. The Proctor snorted in amusement.

“Doctor, mind your tongue, and keep your eyes on your monitors.”

“Should we not obey the letter of the law? You don’t want anyone asking any questions later about what you have done, or why.” 

“Doctor, you would do well to remember where you are, and who I am,” the jovial man chuckled quietly. “I am the law. No one will question what I have done. It is my duty to punish those who have done wrong. Dr. Reid has disobeyed my commands. He has deceived me. He has hidden himself from me for two long years. He will be punished for what he’s done. When I announce that he has been recaptured, that he has been disciplined for his transgressions, and that he has been confined for our safety as well as his own safety, the council will be grateful for my efforts.” 

“You can’t be serious. Is that your plan? After what we’ve done, there will be no going back to the council. We are outlaws, sir. Enemies of the state,” the doctor reminded him. 

“Do you think so?” the Proctor wondered. “What have we done?” 

“We have kidnapped Dr. Reid, and we have killed Aaron Hotchner.” 

“I didn’t kidnap or kill anyone,” the Proctor defended. 

“It won’t take the council very long to determine that you and I are both responsible for Dr. Reid’s disappearance, and Mr. Hotchner’s death. When the native’s body is discovered….” 

“Agent Greenaway was ordered to dispose of him over Virginia. It will be days, weeks even, before his corpse is located. I doubt anyone outside of Virginia will either know or care that he is gone.” 

“No one will likely care about Mr. Hotchner’s fate, but there will surely be an uproar over Dr. Reid’s abduction,” the doctor predicted. 

“As well there should be. He is an important, valuable young man.” 

“The computer was tracking Dr. Reid’s location in the meeting facility,” the doctor added. “The video monitors were tracking him as well.” 

“I told my people to disable the video monitors when the council reconvened,” the Proctor replied, smiling yet.

“My absence and your absence will be noted, and connected to Dr. Reid’s disappearance,” the doctor insisted. 

“My absence will be explained. I have been called away on an emergency in the Northeastern province. Students are staging a protest at a maturation pod in Penobscot – holding their instructors hostage and making unreasonable demands. This uprising must be quelled at once before it spreads, and therefore the situation demanded my immediate attention. I have been called away on duty, Doctor.” 

“What about me?” the doctor trembled. 

“Well, that is another matter entirely, isn’t it? What do you suppose the council is going to believe? From all appearances, you have turned against your home minister, a woman you have served loyally for almost three years. It is true that your absence, Dr. Reid’s disappearance, and Mr. Hotchner’s unfortunate demise will surely be connected. Who knows how much the monitors recorded before they were disabled? You might be in very deep trouble indeed, Doctor,” the Proctor smiled. 

“You hope to push the blame for this onto me?” the doctor’s voice rose. 

“Doctor, don’t be absurd. I do not hope. I have already succeeded in making you the obvious villain.” 

“But I did this for you! I did this out of loyalty to you!” the doctor cried out. 

“You surely misunderstood my directions. Why would I ask you to kidnap a vulnerable young man, or order you to kill his native friend? When his baron finds out his sheriff is dead, he might very well start a war over this!”

“You gave the native to your own agent!” the doctor was flabbergasted, and stammering by this point.

“I had to leave. I ordered Agent Greenaway to obey your every command. How could I have known you were going to ask her to kill the native? How could I have known what you planned to do to Dr. Reid? I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by abducting him. You might only make his condition worse, if you were to subject him to physical and psychological torture. He is in desperate need of medical attention and round-the-clock psychological observation. I’m as shocked by your actions as anyone else would be, considering your exemplary record of service,” the Proctor chided the doctor with one voice before he mused another quiet chuckle.

“Do you think this is a joke?” the doctor babbled fearfully.

“I assure you, this is not a joke,” the Proctor replied grimly. 

“What have I done?” the doctor murmured. “Has this been your plan all along?” 

The Proctor gave the doctor a condescending smile, and let it sink in good and deep before he mustered a reply. 

“Now that we understand each other, Doctor, I need to ask if you feel you can continue to perform your duties as required. I need someone I can trust to monitor Spencer’s condition, to tell me if I’ve gone too far. Can you do that, or should I relieve you? Think carefully before you answer.” 

“I can’t believe I trusted you! How could I have been so stupid?” the doctor exclaimed. 

The Proctor sighed impatiently. 

“Very well. I have my answer. It’s clear your usefulness has come to an end. You may consider yourself relieved of duty. Return to your quarters.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the doctor laughed. 

Without preamble, Proctor Gideon pulled a weapon from his gray robes, and fired it at the other man. The doctor crumbled unconscious to the floor. Proctor Gideon put away his weapon, and touched a nearby panel.

“Dr. Archer, please report to me at once. Thank you.” 

When he straightened up, the Proctor realized that in spite of his compromised condition, Spencer had seen and heard everything which had just transpired. What was worse, he had understood the implications as well. His amber eyes were wide with alarm. His breathing was erratic and strained. Spencer was trying to get up off the table. His fear was palpable, and delicious. The Proctor ran a hand down the young man’s stomach again, patting him tenderly on the abdomen. 

“Awake, are you? Hush now. Don’t move about. You’ll only bruise yourself. We can’t have that. No need to worry, my pet. No need to struggle. You have no reason to fear me. We are going to be good friends again, very good friends. How I have missed you, Spencer. Every beautiful bit of you. Especially that mouth. Why don’t we become reacquainted again before Dr. Archer arrives?”

The Proctor’s hand slid up between the young man’s thighs as he forced his mouth over Spencer’s lips.

* * *

“What the hell took you so long?” Aaron shouted as Morgan aimed his flying, headless horse for the top of the left front tower of the castle. Morgan dismounted and set the frame against the tower wall between one of Rabbit’s plants and one of the large cannons.

“Damn you! I got here as fast as I could!” Morgan shouted back. 

In the distance over the village, Aaron could see the ripple in the air around the water, and the way the ships below rocked although there wasn’t a stiff wind. It was evident that whatever airship had ferried Morgan back to the Virgin Land was hovering over those particular the three-masters at the docks in the village of Quantico. He assumed it was the Queen Anne again. 

“I apologize,” Aaron offered humbly. “Forgive my sharpness. Rabbit is in grave danger. He’s frightened. I need to find him!”

Morgan was quick to offer his own contrite words. “Forgive my sharpness too, sir. I have spent the last few hours turning Boston upside-down. Reid is not there. I don’t know where to begin the search for him!” Morgan mourned. 

“We have to approach this riddle with one mind if we have any hope of figuring out where to start,” Baron Rossen soothed, watching Aaron pacing back and forth along the western edge of the wall. The shire reeve had his spy glass extended, and his eyes were scanning the horizon. Twilight started at the water and worked its way across the land. Stars began to twinkle in the sky. 

“The Proctor had many ships over in that direction, Rabbit said. But there are none there now,” Aaron pointed towards the western horizon. “Think, Morgan! Think!” the shire reeve whirled around and shouted at the agent in his own language. “Where are they? The Proctor must have places!”

“Of course there are places he could take Reid! But we have searched every one of them already.”

“Where is the Proctor?” Aaron asked. 

“His people keep insisting he is not responsible for Dr. Reid’s disappearance, that he was called away to an emergency situation in Penobscot.”

“Can you not reach him there?” the baron asked. 

“His people keep saying he can’t speak with the council ministers or anyone else because he’s in charge of a delicate hostage negotiation. Lives are at stake,” Morgan muttered. The baron and the shire reeve waited for the translator disc to perform its task. The baron nodded grimly. 

“These are lies, plain and simple, put forth to deceive you,” Lord David muttered. 

“No. We contacted the authorities in Penobscot. There actually is a security situation in a maturation pod there. Instructors are being held hostage by students, and the Proctor’s forces are on scene,” Morgan replied. 

“Be that as it may, this is a ploy being used to distract you. His people might be there, but he is not. The Proctor has taken Rabbit. There is no other explanation that makes sense,” Aaron growled. 

“Can you feel him through your bond?” Morgan hoped. The shire reeve nodded.

“He is alive.” That was all Aaron was certain enough to say. 

“How do you know?” Morgan wondered. 

“I can feel his heart beating with my own,” Aaron replied, touching his chest, wishing he could explain this more clearly. He fought to stay hopeful, but that was causing almost as much pain as the despair which gnawed at every corner of his mind. Whatever was going on, Rabbit was terrified and upset. Those violent emotions were flowing over into his master, disturbing his attempts to remain calm and focused. “If the Proctor harms Rabbit, I’ll kill that bastard with my bare hands,” the shire reeve threatened. 

“No, Aaron. It would be far worse to incarcerate him. He will be stopped, and he will be punished,” Baron Rossen promised. “Master Morgan, where would the Proctor take Rabbit to best conceal him? Does he have a favorite dungeon?” 

“We have searched everywhere twice, in every allied province, in every ship in the fleet,” Morgan whined. 

“The Proctor will have one place above all others where he feels he may do as he pleases. It is his private space where he is master of all,” the baron pressed. 

“You don’t understand. He doesn’t need one place. The Proctor may do as he pleases wherever he is. No one questions his authority. He’s got free reign to do what he wants, go where he pleases, and have whatever he desires,” Morgan’s voice was tight with emotion. “That bastard has my clark. He has my friend. It is my duty to stop this man, and I have no idea where to begin. I feel helpless. I don’t like feeling helpless.”

“You must trust the voice above,” Aaron said, pointing to the sky.

Morgan growled out in frustration.

“This is no time for a naïve speech on angels and gods,” the agent grumbled.

“No. You mistake me. I mean the lady above. The voice with no body,” Aaron insisted. “The angel who talks from the ceiling?” he added, pointing upward again. 

“Do you mean the computer?”

“Yes!” Aaron exclaimed. 

“My lord, we have already tried. The computer cannot locate Dr. Reid if he is out of range. He is clearly out of range.” Morgan was almost amused, but too worried to do more than give a faint chortle. 

“You have asked them all?” Aaron demanded. 

“Yes,” Morgan nodded. “It’s one computer, one machine. It runs through all ships, all bases, all of the allied provinces. It’s interconnected. The Chair put out an alert to everyone. No computer in the allied provinces has been able to locate Reid’s bio-scan.”

The Baron watched their exchange, and waited for the translator. His face lit up brightly. 

“Then our answer is obvious, is it not?” Lord David decided. 

“No,” Morgan muttered. 

“If you have searched everywhere in your domain, and you cannot find Rabbit, then he must be where you cannot seek him,” the baron explained. Morgan turned to Aaron in desperation. 

“The Proctor is holding Rabbit here, in the Virgin Land,” Aaron replied.

“Exactly!” the baron exclaimed. 

“You could be right,” Morgan agreed. He bumped his wrist to his chin. “Captain Spaulding, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Morgan,” the wrist device replied. The baron pulled back in surprise. 

“Another fairy?” he asked Aaron. The shire reeve shook his head no. 

“Captain, contact every available ship. We need to organize a grid search as quickly as possible.” 

“Yes, sir. Why?” the wrist device replied. 

“We have reason to believe the Proctor is holding Dr. Reid somewhere in Virginia,” Morgan replied. 

“Son of a bitch! That’s why the computer can’t find his bio-scan! Understood! Spaulding out!” 

Before the link closed, the captain could be heard barking orders. Seconds later, a stiff wind raced across the village, and passed directly above the tower. Every banner on Castle Rossengild stood up straight in the air then followed the movement towards the west. The baron inhaled in surprise, and smoothed his ruffled locks. 

“Did your fairy do that??” Lord David asked.

“She did,” Morgan acknowledged. “But she’s not a fairy.”

“I suspect she would be quite insulted if you called her one,” Aaron added.

* * *

“Give him another dose.”

The Proctor directed his calm request to the petite woman at his side. Without delay, she raised the device in her palm above Spencer. He tried to close his eyes and turn his face away. The Proctor moved behind the table, and held the young man’s head still. He used his thumbs to hold Spencer’s eyelids open.

The blue light flashed in Spencer’s face. The strands and rays coursed through his widened eyes and into his brain, disrupting all communication between the brain cells. The blue light disturbed the brain’s own network, and replaced the frantic messages with an eerie, quiet calm. Spencer groaned behind the leather gag which had been clamped over his mouth and buckled through his disheveled hair. Where before he had been struggling as the blue light invaded nearly every remaining corner of his brain, now he could not remember why he should protest at all. 

“Call him by name. See if he responds to you,” the Proctor ordered. His jovial calm had returned. He was in control once more. Everything he wanted was his again. The Proctor’s hands moved over Reid’s rumpled hair. He couldn’t wait until he could shave away these tangled locks. 

The unconscious doctor was gone. He had been removed to a prison cell hours ago. There would be time enough to deal with the doctor later. The Proctor was entirely focused on Spencer. Gideon smoothed his fingers over the scars on the nape of the young man’s neck. The Proctor had all manner of plans what he might do with Spencer, once they were finished here, once he could move the young man to a private cell where they were less likely to be disturbed. The Proctor was looking forward to mapping every single inch of Spencer, learning what had happened to him, discovering what he might like now, discovering what he might fear. Perhaps the Proctor would add a few new scars of his own to Spencer’s canvas of pain. 

“Dr. Reid?” Dr. Archer murmured, her voice honeyed and kind. Although Spencer’s eyes moved to her, he was responding only to the sound and not the words themselves. 

“Again,” the Proctor ordered. 

Another wave of blue light went through the young man’s mind, leaving behind another vast expanse of emptiness. The eerie calm grew even stronger. This had been going on for hours. There were so few private thoughts left that he could muster between flashes. He had continued to struggle, not knowing why, only knowing that he should. But the last flash of blue had found the last retreat of his desire to keep fighting. The eerie calm was everywhere it could go, in places so remote that Spencer only ventured there in his most haunted dreams. The blue light owned him now. The blue light and Proctor Gideon. The jovial man bent over Spencer as the young man moaned softly and lay still. Gideon seized on that moan and savored it. 

“Spencer?” the Proctor murmured. The young man’s amber eyes did not focus on the jovial man. They were focused on the petite woman in her blue uniform, the five hares on her chest. Spencer counted the hares, and lost track somewhere in the middle. 

“I think it is done,” Dr. Archer whispered. 

“Give him another dose.” 

“Are you sure, sir?” the petite woman wondered.

“Dr. Archer, do not question my orders. We have to do this for his own good. Society must be protected from such madness as this.” 

“You do not believe he has found a cure for the plague?” Dr. Archer asked. 

“Those are delusions, my dear, brought on by his schizophrenia.” 

“Shall I discontinue the tests on his samples?”

“No,” the Proctor shook his head. 

“But, sir, if it is madness to believe he has found the cure, then why do we seek to discover what the samples contain?” Dr. Archer wanted to know. 

“We must analyze the samples, because we need to know the extent of his madness. We must find a way to stop these delusions, my dear.”

“Of course,” Dr. Archer nodded. 

“We must prove to Spencer that he is wrong, that he has failed, that he has not cured the plague. If we can give him solid evidence that he is mistaken, we must seek to do so. Surely it would be profoundly wrong to let him linger in the false hope that he was right?” the Proctor said. 

“Yes, sir,” she nodded in agreement. “It would be very cruel indeed.” 

“You and I, we love Spencer too much to let him wallow in his delusions. We must do all that we can to rid him of this dangerous madness.”

“Of course, sir,” Dr. Archer agreed, lifting the device and letting another wave of blue light descend into the young man’s brain. “But, sir? What if we go too far? He might lose all his memories, and all of his knowledge.” 

“If that is the price Spencer must pay for his willful disobedience, so be it. We can retrain him. We can make him love us again, can we not?” 

“Of course, sir,” Dr. Archer agreed. She watched as the tendrils of blue light sank deeper and deeper into the glazed amber eyes which were focused on her. 

A violent shudder wracked through her body. At first Dr. Archer thought she had leaned too close into the young man strapped to the table. Or perhaps that she had been physically-moved by the pity welling up in her heart. But then she looked to the Proctor for guidance. From the sheer panic and disbelief on Proctor Gideon’s face, Dr. Archer knew that she had not trembled and neither had Spencer. The vessel around them had rocked, and violently so!


	49. Discomfort Zone

49 -- Discomfort Zone

 

“Helm, keep us on course! Weapons, give the Proctor another swat across the backside. I want that ship down, and I want it down now!”

“Yes, Captain!” the two bridge officers answered in unison. Spaulding directed her voice above when she spoke again.

“Morgan?! Are you there?” she called. 

“I’m here!” Morgan replied immediately. 

“We’ve located Dr. Reid’s bio-scan on one of the Proctor’s personal vessels. Gideon is attempting to escape, but we are giving chase. I hope to bring him down in an open area without a forest, hopefully away from heavily-populated villages. There’s a promising space in the barony next to Quantico?” 

“Manassas?” Baron Rossen called out after he heard the translation. 

“Oh, they’ll be thrilled,” Aaron muttered sarcastically. 

“We are converging on the Proctor with six other vessels. We’re trying to bring him in without incident, but we both know he’s not going down without a fight. I’d like to have you here, sir. I’m sending a ship to bring you to our location. Understood?” Spaulding said.

“Hurry!” Morgan exclaimed. 

“Will do, sir,” the captain replied before the link cut out. 

“Captain, Proctor Gideon is requesting to speak with you, or with Dr. Blake,” the first mate interjected from his post at the protective railing above Spaulding’s chair. “He wants to negotiate his terms of surrender.” 

“Request denied. I’m not going to give him the chance to mind-fuck me or anyone else on board my ship. You tell the Proctor to set his ass down quietly, or we will disable his ship and force him to land. Those are his only two choices,” the captain replied crisply. 

“He is being very insistent,” the first mate answered. 

“You can be very insistent right back.” 

“He is threatening to destroy his own ship rather than surrender.” 

“First mate, you may tell Proctor Gideon that he has two choices. He can either land the ship, or we will land it for him. Weapons, give the Proctor another shot to help him make up his mind.”

“Are you sure about this, Captain?” the first mate asked. 

“Quite sure,” Spaulding replied with a grim nod. 

“Message sent, Captain,” the first mate replied. 

“Weapons, on my mark,” Spaulding murmured. 

“Captain, the Proctor continues to request an open communications line to speak to you or to Dr. Blake,” the first office interjected again. “May I call her to the bridge?” 

“No, you may not. Weapons, on my mark,” the captain repeated. “Take out his power supplies. Steady. Ready to fire in three, two, one.” 

The viewport lit up with brilliant sparks, and then a pinpoint of white erupted on the other ship. The small vessel rocked and veered to the left before the other pilot managed to bring it level once more. 

“Captain?” the navigations officer gasped. The ship in front of them began to descend towards the ground, shuddering as it went. All the running lights on the outer hull went dead. Its power systems were failing one by one. 

“Congratulations, Captain. You have disabled his power supply. Their ship has no choice but to land,” the first mate remarked. “Unfortunately you have also taken out his landing gear and running lights,” he added sarcastically. “We need to get over that ship and provide enough light so they can land in one piece.” 

“Yes, thank you. I can see that. Helm, get in front and above the Proctor’s vessel, and put all available lights on that ship. Flood the area with everything we can spare.”

“Yes, Captain!” 

“First mate, contact the other captains. I want crews on the ground, ready to board that vessel the second she touches down.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Spaulding sat back in her seat, her face tight with fear. It was going to be a rough landing, but a competent pilot should be able to handle it. The Proctor surrounded himself with the best of the best, so she had no concerns that the ship would break up on impact. She should have been elated that her crew had found the Proctor, and that they had managed to disable his ship. She should have been happy, but she couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling creeping along her spine. Where were the other vessels that the Proctor had been amassing? Why weren’t they coming to his aid? 

“Morgan?” Spaulding said, activating the communications channel again.

“Captain Spaulding, we’re on board the Sweet William, and we’re headed in your direction at top capable speed,” Morgan reported. 

“My compliments to Captain Foley. Morgan, we taken out the Proctor’s power supply and we’re trying to guide his ship down. You need to get here, fast,” Spaulding recommended.

“We’re moving at top capable speed, Captain.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that!” Spaulding shouted. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this, Morgan. Hurry.” 

“ETA in eight minutes,” Morgan answered. 

“Captain, the Proctor’s shuttle is on the ground. Rough landing, but they’re in one piece!” the first mate reported. “The Aster is already on the scene. Captain Simmons reports they are boarding the vessel. They’ve taken sixteen guards captive already.”

“Any sign of Dr. Reid or the Proctor?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Where are his other ships?” Spaulding asked, mostly of herself. 

“Ma’am?” the Helm officer questioned. 

“Nothing. Helm, put us down as close as you can. First mate, you have command in my absence. I’m headed for Bay Twelve. Have a boarding team waiting for me, armed to the teeth. Keep me posted on any communications with the other ships,” Spaulding said as she jumped to her feet and sprinted towards the nearest lift.

* * *

Proctor Gideon was feeling his way slowly along the ship’s corridor, dragging Spencer’s unconscious form by one arm. The Proctor knew where he was going. He could have found his way there with his eyes closed. Spencer’s bare skin was squeaking along the floors. Gideon paused at the next junction, listening to the sounds of running up ahead. Feet were pounding. Soldiers were shouting. Cones of light were bouncing around wildly. It was eerie in the pitch-black ship, but the Proctor wasn’t worried. He wasn’t afraid of the dark. The Dark was afraid of him.

“Stop where you are. Surrender your arms!” the order came from no more than two corridors away. There was a brief exchange of gunfire, and the sizzle of boom sticks, and more running before the eerie calm returned. 

Gideon moved a small distance and stopped in the middle of the corridor against what appeared to be a solid metal wall. He slid a small blue card in between the metal panels. There was a quick blink of light. A hidden door hissed opened. The Proctor smiled and pocketed the card again. He turned and lifted Spencer from the ground, and pulled him inside the small room. The door closed behind them, and became part of the solid wall once more. 

The room wasn’t much, but it was Proctor Gideon’s sanctuary, his home away from home. It was simple, austere, and very private. There was a bed, a table, and a washroom. Nothing more was necessary. The room was self-contained and protected. It also could double as an escape pod if necessary. The Proctor lifted Spencer and placed him gently on the bed, admiring the young man in his semi-conscious state. The Proctor wasn’t in any hurry. It would take several minutes for anyone searching this ship to find this room, because it wasn’t on any plans. The Proctor had created this room for himself after he had taken possession of the ship. 

“There you are, my pet,” the Proctor whispered, stretching Spencer out on the bed. “Are you comfortable?” 

Hazy amber eyes drifted open, but Reid didn’t know where to focus in the darkness. He moaned against the gag in his mouth. The Proctor took his blue card and slid it into the edge of the table next to the bed. Dim lights illuminated the area right around the headboard. 

“Private power supply. It pays to be prepared for emergencies,” the Proctor whispered, sitting down next to the young man and stroking along his bare side. “I forgot how good you look, naked in my bed wearing only a gag,” he mused. 

The Proctor reached around Reid’s head and unbuckled the leather muzzle. The rubber extension which had been in his mouth and down his throat slid out, wet and dripping. Spencer rolled up on the bed, coughing softly. He took a couple deep breaths, and watched the Proctor’s every move. Gideon opened an unseen drawer on the table and dropped the device inside while retrieving two phials. He set one phial on the table, and it glittered silvery green in the faint light. He examined the second phial for a moment before setting it on the table. It glittered in the light as well, but it was red, not green. 

The Proctor moved to the wall and touched an unseen button. The panel hissed open to reveal clothes, robes, and uniforms in varying shapes and sizes. He selected a white robe, pulled it free of the hanger, and brought it back to the bed. Gideon gently slid the smooth material over Spencer’s nakedness, and petted his hair. Spencer’s amber eyes were filled with confusion. 

Feet charged by in the corridor outside, a veritable platoon of soldiers running to and fro. Gideon opened the drawer again. He retrieved a pair of manacles and held them up for Spencer to examine. 

“Am I going to need these? I certainly hope not. But I want you to know that I do have them.” 

Spencer stared blankly at the Proctor, then at the manacles. He blinked once or twice, and lifted his hands, offering them to the older man. Gideon gave a soft murmur of laughter, and shook his head. 

“Interesting. Perhaps Dr. Archer was right. We may have given you too many doses. No matter. I can reteach you everything you need to know, and you will be a very apt pupil, won’t you, my pet?” 

Gideon put the manacles away again, sliding the drawer closed. 

“I’m looking forward to having you at my side again.”

The Proctor picked up the first phial, and listened with one ear as the room quaked. People continued stomping around in the corridor. 

Proctor Gideon smirked as Spencer opened his mouth and took a breath. He had only managed one broken start of sound. The blow to the head took the young man by surprise. He gulped for air, and cringed away. There was wet warmth dripping from his lip.

“I thought….I thought I heard a scream,” someone outside the room said. 

“Keep searching! The computer detected Dr. Reid’s bio-scan in this corridor here, between these two junctions,” another person answered. 

“The computer has to be wrong. These are storage bays.” 

“I’m telling you he’s here!”

“There are no doors!”

“No doors that we can see. I want you to rig up a new power supply for the ship. On the double! We’ll open every door. We’ll search every crevice of this ship. We’ll pull off the top like a tin of sardines if we have to!”

“Aye, Captain!”

“He’s here. I know he is. Start ripping the walls apart!”

The voices moved to the end of the corridor. Gideon’s dark eyes left the hidden doorway, and moved back to Spencer. 

“How touching,” he whispered. “I understand their concern. That’s exactly how I felt, searching for you, waiting, hoping. I want you to know, it was the hardest decision I ever had the make – ordering my soldiers to kill you. You don’t know how relieved I was when you survived. I was elated. I wept. I did, truly. I’ve missed you, Spencer. But all the worrying is over now, isn’t it? We are together again at last, as we were meant to be. My devious, brilliant, disobedient young friend.” 

The Proctor grabbed Spencer by his arm, and lifted him up from the bed. The young man trembled, but didn’t pull away. Gideon straightened the white robe, pulled it down to the ground, smoothed the corners of the shoulders, admired the way it covered Reid. 

“Do you remember when I dressed you in your first novice robe?” the Proctor murmured against Spencer’s cheek. He stopped himself a moment later, chuckling again. “No. I suppose you don’t. You’re like an empty cup, waiting to be filled. Oh, I have such plans for you. Such plans.”

Fragments of memory, thread-like filaments, were telling Spencer that this man might mean him harm. He had no proof. He had no evidence. It was an instinctual fear more than anything else. Something unsettling in his voice. Something unsavory in his eyes. The young man let his arm go limp so the other man might let go of him. Unfortunately, the Proctor’s free hand moved from Spencer’s arm to his hair, down his shoulder, down his side. 

“You were a beautiful sight that day. So young. So eager. So full of promise. You reminded me of myself when I was your age. Exactly the same age, in fact, when my mentor, the former proctor, Dr. Neel, do you remember him? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. He wasn’t more than a brain in a jar by the time you were born, was he? You were the same age that I was when Dr. Neel took me under his wing and showed me what I had to do. What wonderful, innocent times those were. I saw you up on that platform, in your first novice robe, and I said to myself, ‘That boy and I are going to rule this little ball of mud one day’.”

The Proctor seemed to drift away into memories of his own, his face clouding for a moment with distant recollections. 

“If only you hadn’t been so woefully disobedient, Spencer. Again and again, I would give you an order, and you would have to analyze it before you would obey. Why couldn’t you ever do as you were told? You had overthink everything. That has been your undoing. But we can fix that. We have fixed that, haven’t we? There will be no more disobedience from you. Do I make myself clear?” the Proctor growled. The jovial warmth left his face, replaced by a dark, threatening fury. 

Spencer drew back from Gideon slowly. His legs collided with the bed, and the young man sat down awkwardly. He folded his hands in his lap and stared up at the Proctor, waiting. Was he going to strike him again? Apparently not. Proctor Gideon’s heavy hand came forward and traced Spencer’s hair instead.

“How very unkempt you look. We need to take care of this. You must not squirm, Spencer. I don’t want to nick you.”

* * *

“I don’t know where he is!!” Dr. Archer was screaming as Morgan pulled her along the corridor like a bag of laundry, careful to touch only her uniform and not her skin beneath.

“We have evacuated everyone off this ship, but there are two remaining bio-scan readings. Those readings are coming from this corridor. That means there’s a hidden compartment between this junction and that junction, and that there are two people inside that compartment. The ship blueprints say it’s a storage bay, but we both know that’s a lie, don’t we?” Morgan explained. “I’m not going to ask you again. Where is Proctor Gideon!?” 

“I don’t know where he is!” Archer wailed again. Morgan lifted her into the air and bellowed at her at the top of his lungs. 

“You will tell me how to open this wall, now!” 

“I don’t know!” Lila exclaimed. 

There was an unpleasant sizzling sound as Morgan touched his boom stick to Dr. Archer’s stomach. Lightning flooded the corridor. Lila’s pain-filled caterwauling shook the very rivets in the ship before dying into a tiny, pitiful mewling. Morgan dropped her to the floor and lifted his smoldering boom stick away from her. 

“You will open the wall, or you will die,” Morgan informed her. Lila was dragging herself away her interrogator, her back against the wall. 

“The Proctor is gone! He left the ship before we landed!” she insisted. 

“No escape pods were launched. He is here.”

“Please, I don’t know where he’s gone,” Lila pleaded. Morgan thumbed the small plate on his boom stick, and raised it into the air. Blue light was pulsing ominously at the head of the stick. 

“Morgan! STOP!” Aaron shouted as he came rushing down the hallway. “You can’t do this!”

The shire reeve barely kept Morgan’s arm back. Lila flattened herself against the wall, whimpering and crying. 

“She’s lying to protect him! The Proctor didn’t leave. No escape pods were launched from the ship!” Morgan howled. Aaron’s cheerful translator repeated the words to him. 

“The Proctor would not have told her where he was going. He wouldn’t take the risk that he couldn’t trust her. She doesn’t know where he is. Take Dr. Archer to Captain Spaulding,” the shire reeve ordered. The two guards who had accompanied him waited for Morgan to second the command. 

“Get her out of my sight!” Morgan hissed. Dr. Archer’s protests were heard echoing as she was dragged away. 

“Use your stick on the wall, not her,” Aaron suggested. A wave of nausea and terror rocketed through the shire reeve. He reeled, leaning back against the metal panel for a moment before rocketing back up. “RABBIT!? RABBIT!?” he shouted, rushing back and forth, hands leaving marks on the shiny, silver panels.

Spencer sat up straight on the bed when he heard that name in that voice. There was a tremor in his heart and in his mind. That voice reverberated through him, sank down into his soul like no one else’s ever had. Who was on the other side of the wall? He didn’t know who that was, but he trusted him. Spencer hoped the man on the other side of the wall was here to help him. 

Proctor Gideon recognized the voice. He snarled, seized Spencer by the throat, and pushed him backwards up onto the bed. The young man took a breath to scream. Gideon covered his mouth, and tilted his neck back as he glared down into his eyes. 

“One sound out of you, and I’ll kill them both, slowly and painfully. You will witness every single moment of their final agony,” the Proctor hissed. 

Spencer whimpered and shook his head no. He wasn’t sure who was out there, only that he didn’t want them to be hurt because of him. 

“RABBIT?!” Aaron shouted again. “He’s in there, Morgan. I’m sure of it!”

“GODS DAMN YOU, GIDEON! OPEN THIS WALL!” Morgan shouted. The Proctor chuckled softly. Could they hear him? Morgan bellowed with fury and frustration. Fists were striking the metal wall. 

“What is this made out of? Can we melt it?” Aaron wondered, thinking of Miles and his blacksmith forge. 

Morgan stopped pounding, his hands sliding down the wall as he leaned his head against it in despair. 

“Fools,” Gideon murmured privately to Spencer. “It’ll take hours to cut through that alloy.”

“Sheriff, the entire ship is fire-resistant, to prevent injuries in case it crashes. The bulkheads close to keep the fire contained in one area,” Morgan whimpered. He pounded again in frustration and pain. 

“What does that mean?!” Aaron demanded. “Fire-resistant?”

“It means the ship is difficult to burn,” Morgan growled. 

“How many boom sticks do you have?” Aaron asked. 

“They’re not strong enough.”

“What’s makes them glow? If we put enough of them together, like the cannons you used to bring down the big ship, maybe we could melt the wall?”

“They get their energy from light,” Morgan squeaked. “It won’t work. They aren’t strong enough to melt this wall.” 

“What about the floor?” Aaron wondered.

“It’s fire-resistant too,” Morgan sniffled.

The Proctor was laughing, low and deep, as he ran the clippers over Reid’s skull. He wasn’t being too careful. He was dropping chunks and clumps of long, auburn curls onto the bed and into Reid’s lap. Once he was done, he smoothed a hand over the short, spiky hair that remained. 

“There. Much better,” the Proctor pronounced. 

Spencer didn’t answer. The Proctor put away the clippers and retrieved the phials from the table. He uncapped one and swallowed the contents, wincing and shuddering as he did. Then he brought the second phial over to Spencer.

“We’re ready to go now, Spencer.”

The Proctor uncapped the phial and held it up for Spencer. The young man drew back from the bitter almond scent. 

“Don’t be disobedient,” the Proctor warned, his dark eyes narrowing. Spencer drew back further still. He was almost prone on the bed, hands rising beside his head. Gideon loomed over him angrily. He grabbed Reid’s jaw, pried his mouth open, and tipped the phial towards his lips. 

Spencer wrenched to one side, and most of the contents of the phial went down the side of his cheek. It burned against his skin. A few drops touched his lips. He spit the bitterness away. He jerked and fought, kicking and struggling. The Proctor growled hatefully, and yanked him up off the bed by one arm. Spencer let himself drop to the ground on his knees. 

The lights flickered and jolted as power was being restored to the grounded vessel. Around the room, the doors and panels were opening and closing at random. For one brief moment, the hidden door itself jerked to life and hissed halfway open. Morgan’s astonished face was visible. He was standing there, head bowed, shoulders rounded. Aaron was standing beside Morgan, boom stick in hand, poised to strike the wall. 

Both men seized the opening panel and strained to push it open, getting between the edge of the vanishing opening and the door. As power was fully restored, the hidden door was sliding closed again. The Proctor dragged Spencer up from the ground. The young man’s legs thumped over the bed awkwardly. He was leaving trails of shorn auburn locks everywhere on the floor and on the covers. 

“How are you alive?” Gideon hissed at Aaron as he and Morgan got the hidden door open far enough to get inside the small room. As the portal slid closed, the faces of a dozen blue-clad soldiers appeared, led by Captain Spaulding. The soldiers were carrying a very large, portable weapon and a tripod. There was no doubt what they planned to do with that big gun. While a boom stick didn’t have the energy to melt the metal alloy of the wall, that portable cannon certainly would be able to do so. 

“Stay where you are,” the Proctor warned, gasping for breath, hissing and spitting as he spoke. He had an arm against Spencer’s throat, choking the young man while using him as a shield. Morgan scooped the two phials off the floor, sniffed at them. He handed them to Aaron, who gave them a brief sniff as well before putting them in his pocket. He would worry about the phials later. All he cared about at the moment was Rabbit. 

“Are you okay?” Aaron whispered, hating the weakness and tenderness he heard in the quivers in his voice. Rabbit stared at him with blank and a fearful face. There might have been an inkling of recognition. It couldn’t even be called recognition. It was more like instant trust in Aaron, based on what he felt in his heart. On some level Rabbit understood that this man was here to help. Aaron hoped that meant their bond had not been severed. There was reason to hope. 

“You’re too late,” the Proctor whispered, grinning ghoulishly. 

“Rabbit, are you hurt?” Aaron whispered, taking a step closer. The Proctor tightened his grip on Spencer’s throat, and the young man’s legs flailed as he struggled for solid footing. His face was turning redder by the second. 

“Your name is ‘Spencer’,” the Proctor murmured against Reid’s cheek. 

“It’s over, Gideon! Let him go!” Morgan howled, raising his boom stick and advancing another step. Gideon was up against the washroom door, garish lights bright behind him. He tightened his grip on Reid’s throat while going for his own concealed weapon. Morgan whipped the end of the boom stick in Gideon’s direction, and the Proctor’s weapon bounced away out of his grip. Aaron kicked it backwards to get it as far away from Gideon’s reach as possible. 

“You can’t stop me. He’s mine. Forever,” Gideon laughed in Morgan’s face as white foam was forming on his lips. He turned his attention to Reid again. “You belong to me, Spencer. You have belonged to me from the minute I laid eyes on you. The moment I saw you, I knew you would be mine, and you are, aren’t you? Every bit of you. Mine.” 

The Proctor’s free hand moved his hand over the young man’s chest. He caressed down between his legs, cupping him possessively through the robe. Rabbit squirmed to get away, and Aaron filled with fury and jealousy. 

“When I think of how many nights you spent in my bed, legs spread, hands bound?” the Proctor whispered, giving a ghostly thrust against the young man’s hip. Spencer’s eyes were glazing with revulsion. The arm on his throat tightened, and he fought to breathe. “I had to start muzzling you because all the noise was attracting attention. It was hard work, but I needed to prepare you for your task ahead. You took to your job well, didn’t you? The number of human samples on that data file is impressive, I must say. Extraordinary. You spread you legs for practically every person you met, didn’t you? Were you only following my orders? Doing what I wanted? Or were you enjoying yourself? Oh, Spencer, there’s no need to be coy about it. I knew you were perfect for the task, because you enjoyed every single thing I ever did to you, didn’t you?”

“Please,” Aaron pleaded. “Stop this. Don’t hurt him. Let Rabbit go, and we’ll find a solution for this. I promise, you’ll walk out of here alive if you set him free,” the shire reeve persuaded. He would have said anything he had to say to make the Proctor let go of Rabbit. 

“His name is Spencer,” Gideon hissed when he heard the translation. 

“If you ever loved him even half as much as I do, you could never hurt him. You wouldn’t hurt him. Ever,” Aaron whimpered. 

Proctor Gideon wrenched Reid’s head back even further. Was he trying to twist the young man’s neck? 

“You don’t love him. You used him. He was nothing more than a slave to you. Let me show you how much I love him,” The Proctor snarled and hissed. 

“NO!” Morgan and Aaron shouted. 

“We’ll be together forever, Spencer. There is more than enough venom for us to share,” Gideon whispered. He was drooling and licking Reid’s reddened cheek. Gideon tried to put his poisoned lips over Reid’s mouth. Morgan bellowed and flew forward. Aaron howled out and rushed them as well. Rabbit squirmed and struggled out of Gideon’s deathly grip. 

Morgan yanked Proctor Gideon away from Reid, rolling the older man face-down onto the bed, holding his arms behind his back. The Proctor was gasping for breath, and more white foam was forming on his lips. Morgan assumed it must be the result of drinking one of the two phials of poison. 

Aaron grabbed Spencer and pulled him anxiously in the other direction, towards the tiny washroom. Their feet were scrambling across the tile floor. 

“Water, Morgan!? Water!!!!” Aaron begged frantically. 

Morgan abandoned the delirious Proctor on the bed, where he was beginning to contort and shudder. Derek flew into the washroom, and touched the silver, metal extension that was above the bowl at waist-height. Water flowed freely. Aaron wasted no time. He scooped up icy cold handfuls in quick succession, splashing Spencer’s face and neck. He was almost shoving the young man headfirst into the metal bowl. 

Spencer struggled against the rough handling, but Aaron kept a firm grip on his neck, washing his face, pouring water in his mouth, splashing his cheeks, rubbing away the burning, red irritation that marred his skin from his right cheek, down his jaw, and into his collar. Spencer spit the bitter taste out, rinsed his mouth a couple times, gargling unwillingly on the water before shoving Aaron away. He fought out an angry scream. He clawed out of Aaron’s grip, snarling and fighting with both him and Morgan as well. Reid dropped down to the ground, panting and horrified and furious, but mostly soaking wet. He scooted as far back under the suspended bowl as he could get. 

“Rabbit? Shh….” Aaron soothed.

Spencer screamed out, striking at them both when they got down with him on the floor. The desire to flee was all over Reid’s face, but to get away, he would have to get past both of them. He dodged left, right, and left again, panting with rising, all-consuming distress. He didn’t like being cornered here in this small space. 

“Reid?” Morgan tried to reason. When he put a hand forward, Spencer grabbed the arm, snapped down with his teeth, and ripped a hole in the sleeve of Morgan’s uniform. The guardian hollered and yanked his arm away. Behind them on the bed, Proctor Gideon was wheezing and cackling his way into eternity. 

“Mine…. Forever….” Gideon rasped before his eyes rolled back and he was gone. 

“Rabbit?” Aaron whispered, watching Morgan staunch the blood flowing from his wound. Spencer was wild-eyed with terror, and the shire reeve could feel it flooding his own system as well. “Rabbit. Don’t be scared. Calm down. We aren’t going to hurt you. Let me look at you. Rabbit?” 

The young man was focusing on Aaron’s voice, and slowly, his panic was easing. Morgan moved into the bedroom, checking Gideon’s pulse. 

“Is he dead?” Aaron wondered, eyes not leaving Rabbit, not for a second. 

“Sincerely dead,” Morgan replied. 

“It’s all right. Don’t be scared. He won’t hurt you anymore,” Aaron promised Rabbit, who was hypnotized by the sight of the dead man stretched out on the bed in the other room. 

“What was in the phials?” Morgan wondered. 

“One of the phials contained cyanide. Didn’t you recognize the bitter almond scent? That’s the one he must have tried to force Rabbit to drink. The other one was the essence of poppies. I recognized it at as well. Our court apothecary performed tests on the potion used to poison John Grosbeak. It was the same poison we resume was used to kill the maid Caroline,” Aaron responded. “If the phial that Gideon used to commit suicide matches the other poisons, then we have proof that he is responsible for their deaths.” 

“Who?” Morgan wondered. He seized on the first name Aaron had spoken. “John Grosbeak? How do you know who John Grosbeak is?” 

“I know who he was. The man is dead. It’s a very long tale,” Aaron murmured. “We have much to discuss, but first we need a doctor.”

“Morgan? Hotchner? Can you hear me?” Spaulding called out from the other side of the door. 

“YES!” both men answered. 

“We’re going to cut through the door!” Captain Spaulding called back. 

“Captain, we need a doctor!” Morgan exclaimed. 

“Hold tight. Get as far back from the door as you can.” 

Spencer quaked at the sound of Morgan shouting. When the hidden door started warming up with a reddish glow, the temperature in the small room rose as well. 

“Get back from the wall,” Captain Spaulding warned. 

Morgan stepped back into the bathroom, dragging Proctor Gideon’s hideous corpse with him. Rabbit scampered back from him, pressing himself against the wall. Aaron felt the fear in his own veins again.

“He’s dead. He can’t hurt you,” Aaron soothed, putting one fingertip tenderly against Rabbit’s outstretched hand. Rabbit shivered and drew back. “It’s me. It’s Aaron. Don’t you remember me? I won’t hurt you.” 

“Air. En.”

Rabbit’s voice was tentative and hoarse. He stopped drawing back away from the shire reeve, and instead moved nearer to him. It was clear from his blank face that he didn’t remember Aaron, but the shire reeve’s presence was calming him, and that was why he moved closer. 

“Aaron,” the shire reeve repeated, touching his own chest. 

“Air. En,” Rabbit echoed. He lifted one hand and touched Aaron’s chest too. 

Morgan hauled Gideon’s body into the tiny washroom, pushing him inside the shower area. He held the bleeding bite on his forearm, and stared in concern at Reid as Rabbit stared fearfully at the dead Proctor. The body was sliding down the wall. Morgan let it drop and tip over. Reid flinched and snatched up Aaron’s hand, squeezing hard. 

“What did that evil bastard do to him?” the guardian whispered to the shire reeve. 

“I don’t know,” Aaron replied fearfully.

“Stop. Stop,” Rabbit pleaded softly. 

“Reid, what is it?” Morgan asked. 

Blue lightning exploded in the outer room. Droplets of melted metal splattered everything in sight – the walls, the bed, the table, everything. Rabbit screamed in terror and rocketed to his feet. Aaron was on his feet at nearly the same moment, attempting to soothe Reid, though carefully, so carefully. 

“We need a doctor!” Morgan called out as the soldiers flooded into the tiny space.


	50. The Proctor's Revenge

50 -- The Proctor's Revenge

 

Aaron and Morgan were pacing the glass hallway. They were taking turns watching the Minister from Canaveral speaking with Reid’s doctor. When they were not watching the two women speaking, the men were staring out into the water beyond. While the nocturnal wildlife along the ocean was beautiful, fascinating even, they were both really more concerned about what the doctor might be saying to the Minister. 

“What’s that over there?” Aaron asked, facing outward.

“Ghost crab,” Morgan replied, glancing back over one shoulder. He was leaning on the railing with his elbows. “What are they talking about?” he wondered, indicating the Minister and the doctor. 

“I don’t know what they’re talking about, but I wish she would hurry back,” Aaron fretted. 

It was agony for Aaron to have to stand out here when he wanted and needed to be in there with Rabbit, wherever they had taken him behind those doors and walls and hidden corridors. Morgan had said this was a very private and exclusive medical facility – only the best for the Minister’s son. There were people in white coats hurrying back and forth, but nearly everyone who went past beyond the Minister and the doctor took a moment to stare at Morgan and Aaron. 

“Did we remove all the poison off his skin? We must have. We practically drowned him in the sink. We got it all. I’m sure we got it all,” Morgan attempted to reassure himself. 

“Could the Proctor have forced Rabbit to drink another phial that we don’t know about? Could he had done something else to him before we got there? Could that be what’s wrong? I don’t understand what’s taking so long,” Aaron worried. 

“Here she comes,” Morgan whispered, tugging his uniform taut and standing up straighter. The ghost crab on the dune outside scuttled under the building and hid next to a support pillar. Aaron stopped watching the wildlife and turned to face the Minister from Canaveral. 

The Minister entered the corridor, and stood frowning at the two men for a few seconds while she gathered her thoughts. Two of her personal aides were hovering nearby, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere. They were ready to race to the Minister’s side, but she sent them away again with a word or two. 

“How is he?” Aaron asked.

“Is he going to be all right?” Morgan worried. 

“Gentlemen,” the Minister sighed tiredly. “Thank you for waiting.” 

“Ma’am?” Morgan intoned. As if they would have left? The Minister took another breath, and closed her eyes. On one hand, she was touched by their concern for her son, and on the other hand, she needed time to process this on her own, without having to be concerned about people other than her son.

“How is he?” Aaron asked again. 

“Spencer is going to need to time to recover. The cyanide burns on his face and neck were superficial. They should heal soon. He’s got bumps and bruises, a wrenched wrist, sundry other contusions and abrasions and indications which I will not detail for you, owing to my son’s privacy, except to say that if Proctor Gideon were not already dead, I would gladly make him so,” the Minister murmured, struggling to keep the emotions out of her voice. 

“How can we help?” Morgan asked. 

“Can I see him?” Aaron pleaded. 

“Of course you may see him, although he is asleep at the moment. The doctors had to sedate him to examine him. He needs to rest, after what he’s been through. Of course you may see him, but I would like to speak with you first,” the Minister continued. “SSA Morgan, I will need you to come with me before the council of ministers, and give a detailed account of what happened. Agent Greenaway will also be there, as well as Captain Spaulding and her crew. There’s going to be an inquiry, of course, naturally, as there should be. I need as many people there as possible who can support what we know to be the truth, before those who are loyal to Gideon have a chance to smear the innocent, and to conceal and rewrite reality to fit their own purposes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan agreed at once. 

“I also want you to assign my son a retinue of security personnel who will not leave his side while he is here, for however long he is here. The Proctor’s people are everywhere. The doctor has already had to dismiss two of the nurses and one of the nurse’s aides. It will take months, years, to weed them all out. I want to know that my son will be safe. I do not have the luxury of being able to sit here by his side and protect him. I want you to select people to look after him, people that you know and trust.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan brightened. 

“Thank you. I do wish to speak with Mr. Hotchner alone, if you don’t mind.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Morgan nodded. He paused next to Aaron, and stuck out his hand. The shire reeve took the meaty paw into his own, and shook it firmly. “I’ll see you soon, Sheriff,” Morgan promised. 

“Take care of yourself, Agent Morgan,” Aaron said. 

The Minister from Canaveral walked to the side of the corridor, and stared out onto the water, the sand dunes, and the beaches. She ran her thin fingers over the metal railing, and waited until Morgan was out of earshot. 

“Mr. Hotchner. I won’t lie to you. I’m furious about what’s happened to my son. But I don’t blame you, do you understand? This is not your fault,” the Minister began. Aaron took a deep breath and fought back tears, biting his mouth closed and nodding his head. “Young man, look at me. You are not the one who hurt my son. You saved his life, you and Agent Morgan both.”

“Can I see Rabbit?” Aaron whispered. 

“Soon. I know it will comfort him to have you there by his side. The doctor tells me he was calling your name when he woke up. He was searching for you. I hope you are unharmed after your ordeal?”

“I’m fine,” Aaron was quick to dismiss. He had a few bumps and bruises, but nothing he hadn’t endured before. 

“I can ask the doctors to take a look at you?” the Minister offered.

“No, thank you, ma’am,” Aaron muttered stiffly. He had had enough of doctors of any variety, save one. 

“Your baron will be concerned for you. We should send someone to let him know you and ‘Rabbit’ are both alive and well, and where you are, and what has happened, if you would permit me.” 

“Yes, thank you. My baron will be relieved to receive news.”

“You have called him that the whole time?” she wondered, her nose and mouth tightening. She might have been attempting to smile. 

“What?” Aaron questioned. 

“Rabbit. You have called my son ‘Rabbit’?” 

“I genuinely believed that was his name. When I asked him, he drew me a rabbit’s face.”

The Minister snickered softly, amused by a private joke. 

“When he was small, he would send me pictures with his letters,” she murmured a few quiet words, then stopped herself, shaking her head. “It makes sense, if you think about it. He could not read or write your language, and did not know the translation for his true name. He drew you a picture of his function, so you would understand what he was.”

“What did the doctor say? Will Rabbit be all right? What did the Proctor do to him?” 

“In time, Spencer will be himself again. The Proctor fought to his last breath to destroy my son, but Spencer has always been a fighter. You can knock him down, but he will always rise again.”

The Minister sniveled softly, and stared over the ocean beyond the sand. 

“We have much to discuss, sir. Not only what happened with Proctor Gideon. We have to talk about this alleged cure, and what it means for both our worlds.”

“Do you want my blood to test? You can have as much as you want,” Aaron offered. 

“That won’t be necessary. Dr. Blake turned over her samples and her data. Everything is being analyzed by medical personnel with expertise in the appropriate fields. The preliminary information would seem to indicate…. I’m having a hard time believing this myself, but the preliminary information indicates my son was on the right track.”

“Ma’am?”

“The doctors have isolated your samples, and studied your data from start to finish. You had the plague when my son first met you, there is no doubt.”

“I told you that myself.”

“I believe you, but we had to have evidence to support your claims.” 

“And now that you have your evidence?” Aaron asked. 

“It’s very simple, Mr. Hotchner. You had the plague then, but you do not have the plague now. You carry dead plague cells within you, but they are disappearing, not reproducing. Within weeks, there will be no indication that you ever had the plague.”

“Rabbit cured me after all?” 

“Yes, he did.” 

Aaron couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from inside his chest, relief and laughter. Why wasn’t the Minister happy? Her somber tone and worried expression dampened Aaron’s elation. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“You must understand the position we are both in. It’s all well and good that we can prove you have been cured. We know there is a cure. But we have no one who understands the steps my son took to arrive at his successful results.” 

“What about Rabbit?” Aaron exclaimed.

“Mr. Hotchner, I don’t think you understand. Proctor Gideon has erased my son’s mind,” the Minister explained. 

“What?” Aaron stammered.

“Completely erased it. The doctor performed the tests three times to make certain. I cannot imagine a more cruel punishment for my son.”

“How is such a thing even possible? Is it an evil spell? Can we lift this enchantment?” 

“It is not a spell. It cannot be undone. This punishment is usually reserved only for the worst criminals. A faint mist of sedatives is used to stun the prisoner, and then an electrical charge is sent into the brain through the eyes. The charge disrupts the communication between the synapses in the brain. The cells temporarily stop talking to one another. You use it once to make a man forget the last few hours. The more times you use it, the more he forgets.” 

“What does that mean?” Aaron wondered. So that was what Rabbit had done to Robert of Stafford?! He had used one, brief pulse, and erased a few small hours from the knight’s memory. However, the Proctor had not stopped at one brief pulse. Had those been the flashes of blue light that Aaron had seen in his mind’s eye? He shuddered with dread. 

“The brain cells talk to each other. That’s how the mind creates thoughts, controls the body, that’s how you function, body and soul,” the Minister was explaining. 

“The Proctor stole Rabbit’s soul?” Aaron puzzled. 

“No,” the Minister sighed. “He erased his mind.” 

“Why in the world would you do this to someone?” 

“The procedure is meant to deter criminal behavior in those who harm themselves or harm other people. Needless to say, the Proctor should have never used such a device on my son.”

“How bad is his condition?” Aaron fretted. 

“Can you feel him through bond?” the Minister asked. “Not that I’m lending any credence to such unscientific, unprovable fairy tales, but….is it true? Can you feel him?” 

Aaron nodded quietly, bowing his head. 

“You have an idea of his condition then. He is like a new infant. The doctor is hopeful that this is only a temporary setback. If you know anything about my son, you know how quickly he absorbs information. He drinks the world like a sponge. If his ability to learn hasn’t been compromised, he will regain his former knowledge in time.”

“How much time?” 

“He reads 20,000 words per minute. He’s a voracious learner. It will not take a lot of time for him to relearn,” the Minister rambled. 

“20,000 words per….he…I….what?” 

“What I’m trying to say is that he has been hurt, but he will recover. If you give him time, he will be himself again someday. But you shouldn’t expect him to be the same person you knew before. Am I making any sense?” 

“How much damage did this spell do?” Aaron wondered. 

“It’s not a spell. Oh bother. The amount of damage done remains to be seen. I have to ask you. Spencer mentioned a book where he had been keeping track of his progress. If you can find it, I need you to bring me that book. I’m hoping that one of the other scientists might be able to interpret or translate my son’s work.”

“I can do that,” Aaron promised. 

“Whatever his condition, we will take care of him. I intend to keep his promise to you, that you and your people may have the cure.”

“But in return, you want to negotiate for our surplus food?” 

“Food and the knowledge of how to reproduce the food. Both our peoples stand to gain from this. We can help each other. We can achieve more working together. I hope we can achieve a lasting peace. There is so much we can teach you, and in return, so much that you can teach us.”

“I agree with what you’re saying, Madam Minister, but I’m not the man you need to be having this conversation with,” Aaron replied. “My lord baron would be more than happy to meet with you. I know he would.” 

“Arrange that for me, will you? I would be most grateful. I must attend to the inquiry into Proctor Gideon’s misdeeds first and foremost, but after that, myself and other ministers from the allied provinces, we would very much like to meet with your baron.”

“I will arrange the meeting,” Aaron promised. “Can I see Rabbit now?” 

“Of course. But be forewarned. Don’t let it dash your hopes if he isn’t responsive to you. He is under heavy sedation at the moment, and not quite himself in any respect.”

* * *

The corridor was bright, annoyingly so. There were many rooms up and down the long passageway. Aaron followed the Minister, unsure because of all the sounds going off around him. A glance or two left or right into the rooms along the corridor showed people stretched out on long tables with thin mattresses, not unlike the blue cot that had been in his brig cell on the Queen Anne. Everything was white and clean, sterile and lifeless. It was inhospitable and cold, like being stranded in an eternal winter.

Machines hovered on tall stands next to the cots, looming over the patients, emitting whirring, beeping noises, collecting ‘data’, whatever that was. Aaron didn’t like this place. It was creepy and hollow. He didn’t want to leave Rabbit here alone. Aaron vowed he wouldn’t leave Rabbit’s side until he could walk out of here and come home to Castle Rossengild, where he belonged.

Rabbit’s room was dimly-lit, but then it was the middle of the night! A doctor in white met the Minister at the door. She frowned her disapproval at Aaron and his bedraggled condition, but when the Minister walked into the room, Aaron was allowed to follow. The doctor closed to door behind her when she left. 

The stars and the moon glowed beyond the wall of windows. The ocean was rolling onto the sandy shores. The ebb and flow of the waves echoed Rabbit’s calm breathing. The sound of the waves wasn’t audible at this distance, but they were soothing nonetheless. Aaron wished some of the outside heat and humidity could make its way into this sterile, icy room. The Minister went to stand by the windows, giving Aaron and Rabbit a few moments alone. 

Aaron approached the side of the bed. The top of it was raised higher than the bottom. He peered under the cot for a moment – there were metal rods on either side of the contraption which held Rabbit’s head and shoulders at a higher angle than his hips and legs. That didn’t look very comfortable at all. He wanted to take Rabbit home and bundle him up in blankets and rest him in their bed where he belonged. 

Aaron stood as close as he could get to Rabbit, and ran his fingers through the young man’s short, stubby locks. Someone had already taken the liberty of shearing away the uneven clumps that the Proctor had created, leaving behind a very-short but tidy cut. Although he was lamenting the loss of Rabbit’s long hair, all that mattered to Aaron was that Rabbit was alive. The short locks made him look so thin and fragile though. They accentuated his long neck and starved features. It made him look even younger too. 

Aaron swallowed and cleared his throat. He bent and kissed Rabbit’s forehead. Hope warmed his heart as he watched the young man’s eyelids flutter. There was a monitor on a stand next to the bed, beeping in time with the pulse that Aaron could feel on Rabbit’s wrist when he lifted his hand and kissed his fingers. The young man was fighting to the surface of his dreams. He found Aaron’s face with his hazy eyes. Aaron smiled reassuringly at Reid. Rabbit’s mouth moved.

“Air. En?”

His voice was soft and unsure. 

“Aaron,” the shire reeve corrected tenderly as he smiled. Rabbit mimicked the gesture. Aaron opened his senses, wanting to understand how and what the young man was feeling. Rabbit was sleepy, and floating weightless inside himself. He didn’t mourn the great emptiness though. He did not seem to be aware it was unusual. On a basic level, he understood that something bad must have happened, though he did not realize what. Maybe it was the fact that everyone around him was treating him with great care. The shire reeve caressed reassuringly him, and nosed another kiss on his forehead. 

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that Rabbit could not remember what had happened to him. Not remembering what had happened might speed his recovery. It hurt Aaron to know that his dear bunny had been so mistreated, but it hadn’t been a surprise to be honest. Knowing what he had endured, both as the Proctor’s pupil and during the two years he had been stranded in the Virgin Land, it made Rabbit’s actions and reactions understandable now. No wonder he was hiding under furniture and jumping at loud noises!

Aaron wasn’t ignorant about what Gideon had been doing, revealing his crimes to Morgan and Aaron. The Proctor had bragged about what he had done in the hopes of poisoning Aaron’s feelings for Rabbit, and in hopes of clouding what Morgan thought about his clark as well. It wasn’t going to work. Aaron was determined that no matter what the Proctor had done, no matter what Rabbit had done before he came into Aaron’s possession, that the young man was not to blame for what had happened, and what he had been forced into doing. Knowing how he had been hurt wasn’t going to change how much Aaron loved and needed him. Knowing about it only served to redouble Aaron’s feelings of affection and protectiveness. He was sure the same went for Morgan as well. 

“How are you?” Aaron asked Rabbit. The translator burbled after him. Rabbit didn’t answer. Aaron caressed the red streaks along Rabbit’s jaw and cheek, down on his neck. They were raw, but even lighter than they had been before. Perhaps the doctor had smoothed a healing salve on them? Aaron couldn’t stop himself from kissing Rabbit on the forehead again and again. Rabbit was pantomiming the kissing motion with his own lips. 

“Aaron,” Reid sighed happily. 

“As soon as you feel better, I am taking you home, where you’ll be safe from all this madness.”

This comment brought a concerned look from the Minister, but she held her tongue for the time being. Did she know what he was saying?

“Better,” Rabbit echoed.

“We’ll go visit Matilda, and have a few cinnamon buns. You must be hungry.”

“Aaron,” Rabbit repeated the syllables, happy with the sound. 

“Baron Rossen will be relieved to know you’re all right. So will the Lady Julia. She was most kind to me, most helpful. We will all be so happy to bring you home again.”

Rabbit murmured, “Home?” Did he understand the concept, or was he merely repeating the words that Aaron was saying? 

“When you are better. You need to rest for now. Let the doctors look after you. As soon as the Minister gives her permission, we will go home,” Aaron promised. “In the meantime, I will stay by your side night and day, and keep all the monsters at bay.” 

“Stay?” Reid asked, eyes beaming happiness as his face warmed with relief. 

“Yes. I will stay. Think I’m leaving you alone for a second? No. Never again. I love you too much to be away from you.”

“Love. You,” Rabbit mouthed, eyes drooping now. The potions in his system were winning out again. His lids were closing slowly. 

“I love you too,” Aaron replied. He kissed his forehead again, then the tip of his nose, then those sweet lips as Rabbit mouthed another word.

“Read?”

Aaron pulled up to give him a puzzled look. There on the table beside the raised cot was a book. He didn’t have any idea on the topic, couldn’t read the words on the cover or the spine. Perhaps the Minister had brought it here? Considering how rare and valuable books were in their world, Aaron was surprised she would have carried it around. Aaron glanced at the Minister. She was smiling to herself proudly as she dried her eyes. 

“Do you want me to read to you?” he asked. 

“Read to me. Please? Yes,” Rabbit mouthed as he fell back to sleep. 

There was a commotion developing in the corridor outside the room. The Minister came past the bed as quietly as she could. 

“MINISTER?” Morgan was shouting as he returned, searching for her. He burst into the room, and Aaron was concerned that Rabbit would jolt awake in fear, but the young man was fast asleep, holding Aaron’s hand. 

“What is it?” the Minister asked.

Morgan stopped for a breath, his face awash with horror. He darted his eyes to Reid, and happiness lit his concerned visage for a few seconds. He was glad to see his clark, but he had important news to relay. 

“The Proctor’s ships, ma’am. They’re moving against several major cities in the allied provinces, headed in attack formation all over the region.”

“Captain Spaulding was concerned that might be his plan,” the Minister said grimly. 

“The largest part of the fleet is assembling again on the western border of Virginia. Ma’am? I believe they mean to level the Virgin Land. We have to hurry!” Morgan insisted. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Aaron asked. 

“It seems the Proctor is determined to have his revenge after all, even from beyond the grave. Mr. Hotchner, I want you to stay here with my son. SSA Morgan. Come with me,” the Minister commanded. She was all business as she headed away down the corridor, barking commands into her communications device as she went. Morgan hurried to keep up with her long, quick stride.


	51. Epilogue -- Autumn

Epilogue - Autumn

 

“In a basket by the water?” Rabbit was mumbling as his eyes scanned the text and drew in information. 

“What’s that?” Aaron murmured, clearing his throat, putting on a broad smile for a moment before turning serious again. “You need to hurry. The baron is expecting us. The ceremony is about to begin. You aren’t even dressed.”

Reid stood up from the desk and put down his pencil. He left a scrap of parchment between two pages to mark his place in the book he had been devouring. Aaron was at his back, smoothing down his hair, kissing the top of his head. 

“Do not seek to distract me. I am calculating,” Reid warned. Aaron kissed the fingers which were brushing at his chin. 

The shire reeve wondered, “Could you get dressed while you calculate?” 

Aaron bustled Reid over to the large bed which dominated the apartments. No point in making pretend. The entire barony knew what was going on between the two men. The second bed was in the room still, but it had been put to a different use. It was swimming in stuffed toys and rag dolls. An exquisitely-tailored outfit had been prepared for Rabbit. His master pulled up a fine silk shirt and slid it over Rabbit’s raised arms. Aaron enjoyed dressing Spencer almost as much as he enjoyed undressing him, and Spencer often indulged him in this curious past-time. Rabbit busied himself with the small laces in front. There was no hope in covering the three scars across his throat though. 

“Nine months of incubation would be required, whether the child gestated in vitro or in utero,” Reid was murmuring. 

“I have no idea what you’re saying, but it sounds so dirty,” Aaron smiled, sliding trousers onto Reid’s legs and pulling them up around his waist. 

“I can dress myself, you know?” Reid continued to murmur. 

Aaron paused, nodding. “I know you can,” he whispered. “We’re going to be late,” he chided the next second. He clasped a wide belt around Reid’s waist, reaching around him to buckle it. “You’re thinking. I can hear a faint whirring noise,” he teased gently. 

“Nine months at the minimum, plus six months and three weeks, plus calculating for the possibility of not achieving conception on the first try,” Reid replied, lost in his thoughts. 

“Put on your boots,” Aaron ordered. Rabbit strode over near the door, retrieving the articles in question. He grabbed the left boot, slid a set of toes inside, and tugged to draw the footwear up to his knees. Aaron simply admired the view. 

“When did you do it? I do not remember you actively taking a sample, so you must have done it on the sly,” Reid observed, slipping into his other boot. “Was it the night of the Mid-Summer Masque?” he asked, lighting up, eyes blazing as a playful grin formed. 

“Why would you think that?” Aaron wondered, voice rising as he pulled a cloak off the bed and spun it around Reid’s slender shoulders. He clasped the rondelles tight – a golden circle with water grasses was emblazoned on the rounds. 

Reid laughed softly, “My calculations bring me backwards to that date, mid-June of last year. I had far too much to drink that evening, and cannot bring to mind a clear recollection of what occurred. Plus, I woke up wearing a blindfold and part of jester’s costume.”

“That was indeed a topsy-turvy evening,” Aaron sighed, patting his friend’s shoulder. “You and the jester traded clothes at midnight. We all did. It was part of a game we were playing.” 

“Is that why you woke up dressed as a milkmaid?” 

“Yes, it is," Aaron confirmed. 

“Was that when you did it?” Reid asked. 

“I do not know what you mean,” Aaron laughed. 

“Master, you cannot continue to prevaricate in this fashion,” Reid reasoned. “Simply tell me the truth. I must know if the child is genuinely mine. I do have ways of finding out, but I would rather that you tell me the truth. You know how I feel about being lied to.”

“Do you love her?” 

“Unquestionably,” Reid smiled. “I have loved her from the moment you set her swaddled person in my grip, and weaved your outlandish tale about a dream where you were visited by a troop of forest fairies who illuminated your path with twinkling lights. How you woke in the night, and walked down by Quantico Inlet, and there by chance discovered a basket floating among the reeds and a poor, abandoned baby perched inside. Aaron Hotchner, you don’t have to protect me from the truth.” 

“I protect you because I love you so,” Aaron whispered, nosing a kiss to Reid’s cheek and turning him around towards the door. 

"I will not be angry with you if you tell me the truth," Rabbit promised. 

Aaron gave Reid a swat on the backside and a small push. “The baron is waiting.” 

“You are the worst sort,” Reid replied, unlocking the door and heading into the hallway which was filled with courtiers and pages and revelers. He pretended not to notice as four very serious young men fell in step behind them. 

Reid tensed up as they moved forward, all of his humor draining away. Aaron put a protective arm around his waist and guided him through the crowd. It was understandable that Rabbit would be nervous at large gatherings. In the last eighteen months, there had been no less than five assassination attempts by those who remained loyal to Proctor Gideon. In response to the constant threats on his life, Rabbit had chosen to stay away from Canaveral or any of the other outlying allied provinces. For a time, he actually refused to leave the castle, or even their rooms. He had whiled away the hours, relearning his lost knowledge, devouring books as other men devoured bread and meat. Spencer had chosen to remain by Aaron’s side in the Virgin Land. Anyone from the other side who wanted or needed him, well, they could jolly well come here, including the Minister from Canaveral. 

They made their way down the steps and into the pandemonium below. Castle Rossengild was decked out in autumn finery in celebration of the fall harvest – oranges and reds and golds and dark browns. Heavy banners and streamers were hung. Pumpkins and other ornamental gourds were lined around the Great Hall where the presentation ceremony was to take place. Outside the Harvest Moon smiled down upon them, her face bright and full. The autumnal equinox was two mere weeks away, and the harvest itself was bountiful -- more than enough to share. 

Tonight was a special presentation ceremony. Aaron and Rabbit would be officially presenting their infant daughter to Baron Rossen. Every child of the realm was introduced in such a way, and then tested to determine their status in life: rabbit, the fortunate immune, or other. There was no cause for concern if a child was born with the Great Plague now. Rabbit’s notes has been translated and deciphered. All that needed be done was to find a compatible rabbit, introduce the cure components, and allow the child to receive the cure from the rabbit. Generally the process took about a month. Two months at the outside.

Of course, for them to be able to present their daughter to the baron at the ceremony, the baron was going to have to relinquish her back to her fathers for a at least few precious moments. As fond as Rabbit and Aaron were of the babe who had supposedly been left in the waters in a basket and guarded by fairies until Aaron had found her, the baron was himself utterly besotted with the tot. Lord David ported the child around in her small basinet, showing her off to everyone like the very proud grandfather he was. 

“Have you chosen a name yet?” Aaron whispered. 

“I thought you said it was bad luck to ask me that?” Spencer whispered back. 

Aaron grinned and continued to gently guide Rabbit through the crowd. There was music and dancing and feasting and revelry. In the year and a half since the Truce had been declared between the Allied Provinces and the Virgin Land, the population of the Virgin Land hadn’t needed much of an excuse for organizing a celebration. They were happy to be alive, and elated by the delivery of the cure for the plague. Wherever he went, Rabbit was lauded and praised and feted, to the point that he was embarrassed by even the littlest amount of attention. The other, most-celebrated personage could not be here tonight. Admiral Spaulding was busy with tactical war games off the Atlantic Seaboard. She would be here tomorrow morning to visit her favorite niece. 

“It is bad luck. You mustn’t answer. I can’t help but ask though,” Aaron admitted sheepishly. 

When Aaron and Rabbit entered the Great Hall, a fanfare was blown by the two trumpeters standing on either side of the entrance. The two men paused, not only because they were startled by the trumpets, but because someone from the crowd tugged on Aaron’s arm. Aaron hoped for a moment that it might be his loyal squire Karl returning from his mission. The Lady Guinevere had been spotted by the highwaymen of the forest, on the run between the baronies of Culpeper and Fallmouth. Her aunt, the baron’s banished first wife, the Lady Isabella resided in Fallmouth in Briar Leigh. It had taken months and months of careful maneuvering to draw her out in the open. Aaron would have liked to have led this mission to capture the Lady Guinevere, but the baron had refused his request. It would not do for the shire reeve to leave home, not with his own daughter’s presentation ceremony only days away. Thus Karl and a few of Lord David’s best knights had been sent to capture the scurrying villainess and bring her back to face justice in Quantico. Alas, it was not Karl though. 

“Here, my lord, your cabbage,” Ashleigh beckoned. 

“At last, there she is!” Aaron beamed. He first dotted a kiss to the infant, and secondly dotted one to Ashleigh’s cheek as well. “Madam Counselor, are you not more occupied than this? Haven’t you a function or two to perform tonight, organizing the parents?” 

“Indeed I will be very busy, Master Reeve, and it does please me to begin with you.” 

Ashleigh plunked the infant into Aaron’s arms as she exchanged a quick hello with Rabbit. The infant bashed a hand against Aaron’s chest. 

"Da-da-da-da-da," she chirped. Aaron grinned and handed her promptly to her other father. Spencer had the same look on his face that he always had when the infant was in his arms – nervous but pleased contentment. He tucked her to his shoulder, kissed her cheek, and straightened her long, decorative dress, which was very like to cabbage green, and sculpted in half-circles which lent themselves to the illusion of wavy leaves. He could not seem to stop smiling, but then if anything could make him smile, it was his daughter. 

“It is undeniable that she has my features in miniature,” Rabbit said softly to Aaron, touching her on the very tip of her button nose. 

“She does, indeed. I must away. The baron is pacing in his spot up there. You will do just fine,” Aaron whispered, nuzzling Rabbit’s nose and straightening his cloak. Spencer hefted the infant up again, as she latched a hand onto the rondelles of his cloak, and babbled to him. 

“Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa….”

“About time you got here,” came a grumpy voice from behind. 

“Where have you been?” Aaron growled.

“Scanning the crowd for signs of danger.”

“The baron has banned all technology not native to our lands. Have you smuggled in contraband again?” 

“I have scanned with my eyes, Master Reeve, and with my nose.”

“Good to see you, Morgan,” Aaron said with genuine affection.

“You too, Hotch.” 

“I will leave my love in your capable hands.” 

“Be off then.”

Aaron hurried ahead through the line that had formed, other parents carrying infants all between six and seven months old. Aaron’s absence at Reid’s side was filled quickly by a figure in dark blue. Though his uniform was the same here as in the Allied Provinces, Morgan had adopted a sweeping cloak to make his appearance seem less foreign. 

“Ung…mmmm...mmmm…mmm,” the infant remarked.

“I believe she is trying to say ‘Uncle Morgan’,” Reid said.

“Of course she is. Where’s my girl?” Morgan grinned, lifting the infant and giving her a quick spin in the air. Squeals of laughter rang out. A diamond hair pin went flying. Sandy curls bounced free. Aaron glanced back down the line, already in his place on the raised platform beside the baron. The shire reeve frowned his disapproval with the outburst. Morgan tucked the baby back to Reid’s chest. The buckles of her tiny boots shone brightly in the torchlight and candlelight. It was Morgan’s favorite game to take off the baby’s shoes and tickle her toes until she kicked and squealed. Like her father, she was most ticklish on the soles of her feet and behind her knees. Uncle Morgan refrained, at least for the moment.

The line moved rather more quickly than during the previous such ceremonies they all had witnessed. While some ceremonies dragged on and on for hours at a time, this one moved at a brisk pace! The baron was anxious to officially recognize his first grandchild. Though not his by blood, he happily laid claim to her nonetheless. There were days when it took a stiff iron bar to pry her away from his side. 

Last year Lord Aaron had been recognized as the heir to the seat of Quantico. He would inherit after the baron died or retired, whichever came first. Though since he had been cured of the plague, the baron’s health had steadily improved and he might last another ten years. Lord Aaron and Rabbit were bonded, recognized as a joined couple in the eyes of the realm. In order to avoid confusion, Spencer Reid was commonly referred to as ‘Master Reed’, though there were a few disgruntled persons who referred to him as ‘Lady Rabbit’ behind his back. Not unexpected. 

Through the legal recognition of their bond, Master Reed’s daughter was also recognized as Lord Aaron’s daughter, and any daughter of Aaron’s stood to inherit this barony after him, provided that he had no sons. Someday this wee child would be the one to whom infants of the realm were presented in turn, barring accidents, calamities, and infuriated sorceresses. Thus in Lord David’s eyes, there was none so dear to his heart as the sandy-haired infant, with her button nose and amber eyes, in her ruffled, cabbage-green dress.

Between each presentation, Lord David would duck sideways, peer around the others in line, and smile happily at Rabbit and his baby bunny. Morgan kept one eye on Reid, and one eye on the shifting, moving crowd. Spencer was sticking close to Morgan’s side. While the baron’s thoughts had room only for joy, Rabbit’s mind was filled with horrid possibilities. 

It had been at another such, overpopulated event that the last assassination attempt had taken place. The ordeal was repeating itself over and over in Reid’s mind. Rabbit had been called to testify at Proctor Gideon’s posthumous trial. The Minister from Syracuse had placed two sharp-shooters and one explosions specialist at different places in the courtroom. Owing to his state of mind, Reid had been unable to provide much to the trial evidence beyond what he could remember when waking up in the Proctor’s possession, bereft of his clothes and void of all memory or knowledge. 

Morgan understood that Reid’s accelerated breathing pattern, and his racing heartbeat, were as a result of growing fear. He knew precisely which thoughts were preoccupying his clark. Being in crowds scared Reid. Being unsure which person might leap out at him and attempt to do him terrible harm preyed heavily on Spencer’s mind. Reid had escaped that fateful day at the trial with a broken arm. Three other people had paid with their lives protecting him, and the Boston Harbor Complex had yet to be rebuilt. The Minister from Syracuse had not taken the death of his brother well. He had refused to believe that Proctor Gideon had engineered the death of John the Nose, and also Caroline. Though the reason for killing the maid remained unclear, communiques had been produced as proof. Proctor Gideon's posthumous conviction had quickly been followed by the incarceration of the Minister of Syracuse for murder and attempted murder. His fate had yet to be decided. 

Reid’s trembling grew more pronounced. He got caught in his own feet and almost fell. Morgan reached an arm around his waist to steady him, and kept the arm there for support. 

“It’s all right. Just breathe,” the guardian whispered. Reid nodded, and pulled himself up high again. The infant in his arms put one hand on his mouth, poking an exploratory finger up his nose. He gave a nervous laugh and held her little hand in his own so she would stop. 

The time was nigh. They were next in line. And did it not seem like there were more and more people crowded into the Great Hall to witness this occasion? At least there were several friendly faces lined up near to the platform. The Lady Julia stood close at hand, resplendent in blues and whites. She beamed like a proud auntie. Reid had to wonder what role she had played in the creation of this tiny wonder in his arms. He might have to question her when given the opportunity. Perhaps he might risk a journey to the Wooden Planks. The Lady Julia tried to conceal the wrapped gift in her hands, but the bow was visible from every angle. 

Also there at the platform was the Lady Prentiss, dressed not in a proper gown and veil, but tall and proud in her shire reeve’s uniform, the Occoquan crest blazing on the left side of her chest. She rocked on her feet, and a smile lit up her face as the infant in Reid’s grasp began to bounce and reach out.

“Me…me…me…me,” she babbled, shaking Reid’s chin with her hand and motioning to Prentiss again. 

“Do I imagine that she recognizes her Aunt Emily?” Morgan wondered aloud to Reid. 

“You do not imagine,” Reid replied, waving his hand and the infant’s hand at Prentiss, who grinned more broadly and waved back. The Lady Prentiss too was attempting to hide a bundled gift. It looked very like a small sword. Morgan smiled at the Lady Prentiss, and the Lady Prentiss smiled back. Reid took note it was a special exchange of smiles, the kind reserved for dear friends and special paramours. He could not have been more pleased. 

Also there near to the platform was a third figure waiting for Reid’s infant’s turn to be introduced to the baron. Mother Flora was dressed in her usual forest greens and browns, her hair braided down her back and bedecked with blackbird feathers. While it was true that she was a wanted woman outside her forest, the baron himself had presented Mother Flora with special dispensation, allowing her and her band of men to join the revelry in the castle and in the village. It was customary that there be representation from both sides of the infant’s family at these ceremonies. Mother Flora was there to support Aaron. The Minister from Canaveral could not be here this evening, but Morgan was more than happy to represent as a member of Reid’s extended, adopted family. Mother Flora was carrying a calico pouch and stuffed bunny. She tucked the gifts behind her back and sighed happily at their approach. 

At last, the time had come. The baron dotted a kiss on the head of the boy in front of him, pronounced his name loudly for one and all. There was a smattering of applause. The proud parents, an uncle, and a grandmother moved to the left and away, and clutched their child against their hearts. “Immune,” they whispered to each other. “Thank the gods above. He is immune.” 

The baron drew himself up to his full height, stroked his chin, and beamed proudly as Reid approached. The infant danced around in Reid’s grip and lifted her arms to the tubby man on the platform.

“Pop Pop!” she exclaimed distinctly. 

All those gathered who were close enough to hear her had chuckled among themselves, and commented to one another about Lord David's joy. The baron’s ministers and courtiers and pages and counselors were never far, and Lady Seaver was chief among them. In years to come, tales would be told of how the future baroness, dressed as a cabbage, had charmed every crowd from her presentation ceremony onward. This was only the beginning! With Lord Marsh’s recent passing, Ashleigh had been promoted in his place to be the baron’s most trusted right hand. She had been made a proper lady at last. She patted the baron’s arm when he misted up and sniveled with pride at his grandchild. 

“My little cabbage,” Lord David sighed tenderly. 

Aaron moved down from the platform, took Reid’s arm, and guided him up. Rabbit wavered and wobbled, caught his breath, and leaned into Aaron. 

“Are you well, my love?” the shire reeve worried. 

“A little warm,” Reid admitted. Aaron steadied him as Morgan had done, one arm around his waist. 

“Are you not well, Master Reed?” the baron asked. 

“I am well, my lord baron. Too many people. The room stifles me. The excitement wears me down.” Rabbit made excuses as he bowed carefully. 

"You do not like crowds. I promise to be brief," the baron replied. 

"Thank you, my lord," Reid whispered as he let Aaron take the infant from his arms. As every eye turned to him, the shire reeve cleared his throat and began the same speech he had used for each of the sets of parents before. The child tugged on his ear and bounced kisses off his jaw. 

“My lord baron, this is Master Spencer Reid. Currently he does abide in Quantico, in the Castle Rossengild. You may have seen him, from time to time?”

“I do believe I have,” the baron’s eyes twinkled. 

“Master Reid comes to us from the Flat Lands, which are many leagues beyond our borders. His home is to the west, past the sun, past the moon, but under our same stars, so I am told.”

“You are most welcome here, Master Reid.”

“Thank you, my lord baron,” Rabbit bowed. He breathed heavily. His head was pounding. His heart was racing. 

“What does Master Reed do for a living?” the baron asked, as he asked of every parent who came to present a child to him. 

“I am a doctor, a man of learning, a teacher, and yet a student,” Reid’s voice quivered. It wasn’t loud enough for many to hear, but then that wasn’t necessary. All those assembled knew good and well who this was and what he had done. He had turned their world upside-down, and single-handedly cured the Great Plague. There was no need to even mention it, for everyone already knew. 

“He also likes to garden,” Aaron interjected. “He spends a lot of time in the Lady Eleanor’s Green.” 

That was the place in Castle Rossengild that most pleased Rabbit, and Aaron indulged him by letting him stay there as often as he wanted. Although Rabbit carried no memory of the time before his mind had been erased, the hours and days, weeks and months, that he and Aaron had spent together here since were very dear to them both. When he wasn’t relearning the skills that he had had before, Rabbit would tend to the plants, hide among the boughs and arbors and arches. He might read or write or sleep if he wanted. Rabbit felt safe in the castle, and safer still in Lady Eleanor’s Green. If it soothed Rabbit, it soothed Aaron too. 

The shire reeve’s mind turned for a moment to the green itself, back to the peaceful, blissful hour they had stolen there this morning. As Rabbit had walked through the pathways, he had touched plants in turn, a rose here, a lavender there, and a gigantic pumpkin vine which traced across the stones, heavy with lumpy orange orbs. Rabbit had paused long enough to ease the pumpkin vine back into the plot from which it was extending. The sunlight had washed over him, lighting his face and his amber eyes. 

“He will tell very ribald jokes if plied with strong drink,” Aaron concluded slyly. 

“Will he?” the baron laughed. “I shall have to try that this very evening.” 

“Master Reid wishes to present his daughter to you. She was born on the fifteenth day of March. She is approximately six months and three weeks old. Her name is…” Aaron moved towards the baron and handed the infant to him. The baron picked her up eagerly, and nibbled her cheek. The infant laughed loudly, and tugged on the baron’s pointed beard. 

“El…..” Reid breathed faintly. “Eleanor,” he finished. 

“Eleleanor,” the baron whispered, his face temporarily filled with confusion before his smile returned. “I like it. I think. It has rather an Elvish flavor to it, does it not? I do approve! A most lyrical, beautiful name.” 

“Eleleanor?” Morgan rumbled his disapproval. 

Aaron turned to Reid for clarification, and lit up with panic when he saw Reid’s eyes were closing, and his form was crumbling downward.

“RABBIT?!” 

The shire reeve bounded forward, his face lit with fear. Morgan moved forward too, and caught Reid as he was twisting around, crumbling in an inelegant swoon. The crowd gasped collectively. Between them, Aaron and Morgan helped Rabbit lie down on the cold stone floor. They hovered protectively over him. Aaron stroked his hair with great love and concern. 

“Water!” Aaron shouted. “Bring me water!” 

Panic raced through the crowd. There was a loud fanfare of trumpets from the far end of the Great Hall. A courtier brought a goblet of water to Aaron, but almost poured it on him while gawping at the entrance of the room. 

“Am I too late? Why did you let me sleep so long?” 

The thumping of a cypress staff sounded through the Great Hall as the populace went silent with shock and dread. Citizens stopped their revelry, dropped goblets, ducked back in terror. Children hid under tables. Men and women hid behind chairs. Aaron did not take notice. He was petting Rabbit’s pale face, whispering to him. 

“Wake up, my love. Wake up. What is it? What has happened?” 

“It is the heat and the excitement. He does not do well in crowds,” the baron tried to be soothing. The infant in his arms began to cry loudly. 

“Oh, ‘tis a beautiful sound, is it not? The lusty cry of a healthy child. I am not too late. I am just in time.” 

Aaron felt the poke of the cypress staff in his side. 

“Master Reeve, if you would give the man some air and a few moments, he will recover himself by and by.” 

“Lady Eleanor,” the baron whispered. 

“I have asked you not to call me such, Lord David.” 

“Mistress Ironeye, my apologies. Has your long slumber finally concluded? Or are you but a spirit come to ice our souls for us on this celebratory occasion?” 

“I am yet flesh and blood, my lord baron,” the sorceress beamed, her one eye gleaming with mischief. She looked very well rested indeed, as anyone should be after eighteen months of sleep! She gave Aaron another thump with her cypress staff, and grunted with discomfort as she bent over Rabbit’s inert form. “Rise, Master Reed. You must not frighten us this way.”

Reid’s eyes opened unsurely. He blinked and reached upward. Aaron took one arm, and Morgan took the other. The shire reeve carefully moved between Rabbit and Frogga Ironeye. The guardian stared at the gnarled, bent woman with his mouth hanging open. 

“Pa…pa…pa…pa…” the infant begged, tears on her face. The baron handed her to Aaron, and pulled Reid towards the chair behind them-- the baron's own seat. He set Reid down, patted his back, and handed him a glass of wine.

“Take a breath. Have a sip. You’ve given us all quite a fright. I promise, the ceremony is almost over. You need not be so dramatic." 

“May I see her? How long it has been since I held an infant! May I bless this child with a gift?” the sorceress requested. 

Aaron trembled where he stood with his child crying in his arms, and with all the fell tales he had ever heard about sorceresses eating babies rolling round in his head. He quaked, and clutched his daughter closer as his heart froze in his chest.

“No,” Aaron forbade. 

“Aaron,” Lord David scolded. Frogga’s face was beginning to cloud with fury. The air was crackling around her. “Aaron, let my lady hold the baby if it makes her happy. She will not harm the child.” 

“Yes, Aaron, let me hold the babe,” Frogga prodded, absently giving her staff to Morgan, and holding out both arms. 

Aaron glanced to Rabbit for approval. Reid nodded tiredly, slouching where he sat in the baron’s throne. The shire reeve rotated slowly towards Frogga, and held out his daughter to her with every ounce of his trepidation showing. 

“Master Reeve, tell me how you came by this precious cabbage,” Frogga whispered, her face warming with affection as she cradled the wide-eyed infant on her arm. 

“Basket….” Aaron stammered. “I found her in a basket by the water….” 

“Did you indeed?” Frogga pressed, one eye narrowing with disbelief. 

Aaron glanced back to Rabbit, and bowed his head. 

“You guessed correctly. It was the night of the Mid-Summer Masque. That is why I traded clothes with the milkmaid specifically,” he admitted. Rabbit’s weak laugh was a melodious and welcome tinkling of sound. Perhaps he did remember some of that night? “Spencer, she is genuinely yours by blood, not by magic, nor science, but with the help of our good friends.” 

“I thought as much. Thank you for that,” Reid whispered, reaching out for Aaron’s hand, pulling himself slowly and carefully to his feet. “And thank you too,” he said to the Lady Julia, who shrugged one shoulder and nodded in reply. 

“Has she been named yet? Has she been tested?” Frogga asked.

“Her name is Eleleanor,” Lord David pronounced. 

“Hmm,” Frogga hummed. “I don’t know if I approve or not,” she whispered. 

“Be that as it may, her father has spoken, and it is so. She is Eleleanor,” Lord David said firmly. 

“I meant to say only ‘Eleanor’,” Rabbit whispered to Aaron. 

“I thought as much, but it is done,” Aaron whispered back. 

“Has she been tested?” Frogga demanded. 

“She has not,” Aaron answered. 

“May I have the honor?” Frogga inquired, her tone polite but her eye getting dark and ominous. Master Bottler drew back in fear, retreating behind the baron’s counselors and court. 

“The honor is yours, Madam,” he wisely conceded. 

“With her father’s permission?” the baron asked. 

“Yes, of course,” Rabbit whispered. 

The golden needle was produced. Light gleamed off the sharp end as the sorceress raised the miniscule weapon and pricked the child’s right forefinger. Eleleanor gasped but did not cry. She too seemed curious as a bead of bright red fell from her finger and onto the witch’s blackened tongue.

There wasn’t a sound in the room, beyond Mistress Ironeye’s humming. Everyone waited, wondering, hoping, and dreading what might come. 

“Madam, your pronouncement?” Lord David breathed. Frogga was frowning, her face bitter with sadness. 

“What is it?” Aaron worried. Rabbit was at his side, pressed to him.

“How very disappointing,” Frogga murmured. “You shall have to try to love her all the more for her faults.” 

Lord David gasped, coming forward. “She has no faults,” he insisted.

“Oh. How. Terrible,” Frogga whispered, giving Eleleanor back to Rabbit, and patting his arm in a consoling manner. “Your daughter, my dear boy. She will lead a long, healthy, and fruitful life. She will never know war. She will never know famine. She will marry well and happily. She will make you very proud. Both of you.” 

“What’s so bad about that?” Reid wondered.

“But, Master Reed, how tragic. She will live an ordinary life. I am so sorry,” Frogga whispered. 

“Then she is not a rabbit?” the Lady Julia questioned.

“No, my lady, she is not,” Frogga sighed. 

“She does not bear the plague?” the Lady Prentiss asked. 

“No, sadly, no. That at least would have been something tragic to lean our hopes on, would it not?” Frogga whispered, tutting and clucking. 

“Then she is immune?” Mother Flora gasped.

“Yes, she is, poor wee thing,” Frogga consoled. 

“Mistress Ironeye, you could not have given me better news than this,” Rabbit smiled, lifting Eleleanor up and straightening the leaves of her dress. 

“But would you not wish for her even a tiny sliver of adventure? Excitement? The delicious taste of mortal danger? An enchanted quest to faraway lands? Frightening tales to recount to her grandchildren someday? How about a lovely curse? I could arrange to wall her up in a distant tower, grow a thick hedge about her home, and set an ill force of wicked shadows to guard her?” Frogga tempted hopefully. 

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Aaron rumbled, voice deep with fury as he clenched both fists until his fingers ached. 

“As you wish,” the sorceress sighed. “Master Reed, I give you back Eleleanor, your very ordinary daughter. More’s the pity. Such a tragedy, well, truly, the absence thereof.” 

“Thank all the gods, above and below,” Rabbit sighed, holding her even closer. 

“May I bless the child?” Frogga pleaded. 

“Mind your tongue, Mistress Ironeye,” Aaron warned.

“Bless her most carefully, Madam,” Rabbit pleaded. Frogga took her staff from Morgan, and leaned it gently against Reid’s arm.

Aaron held his breath as Frogga whispered words. The sorceress’s lips moved, but no sounds emerged. The air began to swell. Winds moved around the room as if someone had opened every window and door in the castle. The room was swept clean of the smell of perfumes and sweet foods, and filled with the crackle of burning leaves and the tangy scent of tart apple cider and everything pleasant about the harvest. Rare spices like cinnamon and cloves filled the air. 

“Madam….” Aaron found his voice again. “What fell purpose are you up to?” he wondered, putting a hand towards Frogga in order to break the link. 

Lord David tutted, and took Aaron’s hand, and prevented him from interrupting. It was over in a few seconds anyway. The autumn winds howled as they gathered like a maelstrom around Frogga. Her hair lifted like a halo of spiny twigs. Her voice rose though her words were indistinguishable. Every candle and torch in the room was blown out. There was a green flash, and a tremendous, collective gasp of alarm from the segment of the populace which had not yet fled in fear. 

“LIGHT! Bring me light!” the baron demanded in the chaos and the overwhelming darkness of the Great Hall. A dewy, greenish sparkling covered the room. There was a lone, echoing croaking noise from behind the sorceress. Mistress Ironeye was rasping for breath. She withdrew her staff from Rabbit’s arm, and pulled herself upright once more. The candles and the torches renewed their glow again, slow at first but then sure and true. 

“Fear not, Lord David. Please do forgive the hurricane. All is well. My work is complete for now. I believe you no longer have need of me, at least for tonight,” the sorceress decided. “If you have need of me in the future, my lord baron, do send word. I am at your service for whatever you may require.” 

Frogga bowed to the baron, and she grinned a final time at Lord Aaron. 

“Thank you for blessing Eleleanor,” the baron said. 

“My pleasure,” Frogga hummed gleefully. “I will at long last take my leave of you, Lord David. Thank you again for your generous hospitality.”

“Not at all,” the baron bowed. 

“Mistress Ironeye?” Aaron stammered, taking a step after the sorceress. Her long green cloak swirled as she paused, waiting for him to speak. Luminous glimmers like a hundred fireflies rose around her in the air. A bright green frog leapt off the ground, and clung to the side of her cypress staff. 

“Yes, Master Reeve?” 

“May we know what you have given our daughter?” Aaron asked. Frogga gazed back at Rabbit and Eleleanor, tenderness in her face. She tapped her staff on the tile floor. The little frog leapt gracefully to the ground. 

“Are you sure you want to know? There is a price.” 

“Name your price, Madam. I will abide,” Aaron promised. 

“You will not trespass into my swamp. You will not set one boot there, not one foot, not one toe. Nor shall you send your garrison of metal-clad goons to pluck me from my resting place, and drag me hence.” 

“Mistress Ironeye, you have my word that I will not penetrate the borders of your damp and dewy domain for any reason whatsoever, for as long as I do live,” Aaron vowed. 

“And?”

“Nor will I send my guards to gather you.” 

“Good. Well done. I expect you to keep your promise.” 

“I will. But I must know. What is your gift, Mistress Ironeye?” 

“Lord Aaron, I have given the Lady Eleleanor what every young girl does wish for.” 

“A magic pony?” Aaron wondered with a frown. 

Frogga Ironeye cocked a toothless grin at Aaron. 

“I have given her a sister, the fairest friend, loyal and true. A sister who will be there for her all through the days of her dreary, boring, uneventful life.” 

“And where have you stashed this sister?” Aaron asked tartly. 

“Don’t worry, my lord. You will detect her hiding spot soon enough,” Frogga promised, her eye glittering as she cast her gaze at Rabbit. Aaron blinked as unthinkable thoughts danced in his mind. Surely not?!

“When will we find her?” he pleaded. 

“It won’t be long at all,” Frogga remarked. 

“How exactly……Where exactly…..To whom….Whose womb….” Aaron babbled, his words trailing off. 

Frogga did not answer. She tapped her staff at Aaron’s closest boot, terribly pleased with herself. The shire reeve stood speechless as Mistress Ironeye limped her way out of the Great Hall. Phantom fireflies glowed around her shoulders, and the lone, green frog bounced along in her wake. Thoroughly perplexed, Aaron turned back towards the platform, where Morgan was helping Rabbit sit down once more. 

“You look pale. Are you all right?” the guardian asked. 

“I’m fine,” Reid promised. “A bit hungry, to tell you the truth. Could I have some ale, and maybe some cheese and bread?”

“Bring some milk for the baby,” the baron asked of the servants gathered behind. “Bring Eleleanor some milk.” 

Aaron shook the darting concern from his weary head, and clapped his hands together once, rubbing them briskly. 

“It is done then?” he asked the baron. 

“It is done. I am happy to welcome Master Rabbit’s daughter, your daughter, my granddaughter, the Lady Eleleanor Reid.”

Whatever was left of the crowd applauded timidly. The courtiers and counselors and pages applauded as well. 

“Sorry for the slip up,” Reid whispered as he bounced the happy child on his knee. “I’ll be more careful next time,” he promised.


End file.
